Coulda Woulda Shoulda
by Soy
Summary: For spring break, the Ducks go to a hockey clinic, but their first day there they're split apart. Problems ensue. *fluff, minor angst* C/G, J/P
1. Prologue

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Rating - PG   
Summary - The Ducks go to a hockey clinic over spring break and are forced to face off not only with other schools, but also with themselves. C/G, J/P   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
  
Author's Note - This is my first Ducks fic. Sorry if the characters are, well, um, out of character, I really tried to write them right. Also, all mistakes found are there because I can find no one who will beta this story for me. If you are a willing Ducks beta, _please_ let me know and you will become my very best friend.   
To address the issue of _why_ there is a hockey camp in Florida, well that goes back to my own prep school experience where during spring break, all of the sports teams were flown down to Florida for clinics. Soccer teams, lacrosse teams, basketball teams, every team went to Florida...   
  
**Prologue**   
  
***   
Charlie's POV   
***   
  
I flop back against the couch with a sigh of relief. The heavy heat is weighing down on my shoulders and it feels like it's taking all of my effort just to keep me sitting up straight.   
  
"Move over, Charlie."   
  
I feel a gentle push on my left side and open my eyes to see Connie. She looks about as tired as I feel.   
  
"Can't do, takes too much effort..." Despite my words, I inch over a bit, leaving a space just big enough for Connie to fit into.   
  
"Thanks," she says breathlessly as she collapses down next to me. "You know, if you had just sat on one of the sides of the couch and not in the direct center, you wouldn't have had to move."   
  
"Coulda woulda shoulda," I tell her before shutting my eyes again.   
  
It's so hot out. I'm not used to this. And to think I thought it would be a good idea for the Ducks to do this spring break hockey clinic in Florida...   
  
Who holds a hockey clinic in Florida?   
  
"Is it just me, or is the world melting?" That's the most Averman's said all afternoon. Odd.   
  
I open my eyes again. All of the Ducks are in the room now, all of the ones who came on the trip at least. Guy is sitting in a wicker chair across the room, his eyes focused on Connie, who has taken to leaning her head against my shoulder. Averman and Goldberg, both struck down by the heat, have positioned themselves in front of the small electric fan in the corner of the room. Russ, Ken, and Julie are sharing a tray of ice cubes, some of which they waste by throwing at Portman and Fulton. Even the Bash Brothers don't look too tough in this heat. Luis is standing in the center of the room, turning his head around to look at us all. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and looks as if he's trying hard not to laugh at us all.   
  
"Come on! What's wrong with all of you, it's not that bad!" Luis yells to anyone who might be paying attention.   
  
"Not that bad?" I ask. "We just got off the airplane a couple hours ago and already I think I'm dying of heat stroke."   
  
"No," Luis shakes his head. "You're all just cowards-"   
  
"Who are you calling cowards?" Portman interrupts him, but not with his usual force. "I'll show you coward, you- you- Aw screw it, it's too hot to make threats."   
  
"I thought Ducks could stand up to anything..." Luis says shaking his head.   
  
Apparently he was wrong. Actually, I think I'll be just fine once I get used to this climate. It was just the shock of leaving a freezing Minnesota to come to this sweltering state. This is my first time in Florida, I have to adjust to it before I'll be able to move... Hopefully I'll make that adjustment before the clinic's opening dinner tonight. And, it has to cool down by nighttime, right?   
  
"Shut up, Miami Boy," Averman doesn't even look away from the fan as he speaks.   
  
Luis sighs audibly and walks over to the wicker footstool in front of Guy's chair. He sits himself down on it and turns to look out the window. I look out the window too. Right outside the window is an empty stretch of beach, and beyond that is a bluish-green ocean. Really, it's a pretty nice view. If nothing else, we have that view...   
  
Actually, we have nice living arrangements in general. I guess traveling under the Eden Hall name earns us a little bit of respect. So what if we only go to takes this trip because Varsity turned it down? I'm fine with taking Varsity's leftovers if those leftovers include a two week fully paid vacation to Florida.   
  
Eden Hall, in combination with the clinic I suppose, is putting the Ducks up in a beach side condo. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a kitchen (not that many of us like to cook), and a living area, and it's all ours for two whole weeks. Sure, the bed-and-bath suite belongs to Coach Orion, and sure there's no TV and only one phone here, but I can make sacrifices... This place is still really nice, nicer than anywhere the Ducks would have been staying a year ago, when we didn't have a private school's money backing us up.   
  
"Alright, who's ready to get to work?" Orion walks into the room wearing his traditional long pants and fleece jacket. All I can think is that he must be dying. Or immune to heat.   
  
"Coach..." A collective whine comes from assorted Ducks around the room.   
  
"Contrary to popular belief, we are not here to loaf. We are here to learn." Coach glances around the room, but none of us appear to have been moved by a couple motivational phrases. "Some of the best hockey teams in the country are going to be at this clinic, we should feel honored to be here-"   
  
"Oh, we are honored," Averman begins, "Just not honored enough to move."   
  
Orion sighs.   
  
"Opening night dinner is in two hours. We have to walk to the dining hall so I suggest that you all be ready to leave in an hour and a half," Orion does not pause to hear the complaints which are already starting. "And remember that tonight is semi-formal dress. You are the representatives of Eden Hall, so try to look-" he turns towards Averman "-and act responsible."   
  
"Shouldn't it be 'act responsibly'?" Connie asks from my shoulder. I thought was asleep...   
  
Orion doesn't hear her, or pretends not to. Instead, he just marches once around the room, then looks to the door. "I'll be in my room, getting ready, if any of you need me."   
  
We won't.   
  
"Well, I'm going to get change..." Luis stands. "Then, maybe I can get to the dinner early and check out all the hockey chicks."   
  
I sigh.   
  
"Come on, everybody." I force myself to sit up. Connie seems upset as I push her upright.   
  
"But Charlie..." Goldberg begins. He doesn't bother to finish, just leans forward, shuts off the fan and stands.   
  
"Hey!" Averman cries, but he too is getting up off the floor. "Stupid hockey clinic... He mutters as he makes his way out of the room.   
  
The other Ducks are doing much the same. See, I'm a leader. I can lead my team to victory, I can lead them to mutiny, and I can lead them to an opening night dinner. 


	2. Welcome to Florida

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
  
**Chapter 1 - Welcome to Florida**   
  
***   
Connie's POV   
***   
  
"Julie?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"How many skirts did you pack?"   
  
"Three, why?"   
  
"Well, that's three more than I brought with me..." I flash my roommate the 'Please-iest' smile I can and she sighs.   
  
"Here, take this one." Julie gives me a sympathetic look as she throws a black ball of fabric across the room at me. I unroll it and drape it in front of myself. It's not bad, for a skirt. I like the one that Julie's wearing more, but since I'm already being demanding as it is, I really can't complain... Wait, Julie's changed into a skirt already? I'm really moving slow...   
  
"Thanks," I say, tossing the skirt down onto my bed before digging through my unpacked suitcase for a shirt to match it.   
  
"Huh," Julie begins, "I swear I reminded you to pack a dress or a skirt or something. You know They always make us dress up at things like this-"   
  
'Things like this', that's code for 'Let's show off our money! events'. Since we started playing for Eden Hall, we've been dragged to quiet a few of these.   
  
"I know, I know... And you probably did tell me, I just somehow forgot..." Stress. Stress makes me forget the unimportant things. Why am I under stress, it's spring break? Could it be all the pressure Orion is putting on us to be good little ambassadors for Eden Hall?   
  
There's a knock on the door.   
  
"Come in!" Julie and I yell in unison. We smile at each other in that 'Why are we so alike?!' way. We're roommates at school, we're used to one another.   
  
"Hi," Guy sticks his head into the room.   
  
I don't know whether to smile or frown, so I do nothing. Guy. What is he doing here?   
  
Guy and I have a real 'on-off' relationship. I was pretty sure that, this morning, when we left Minnesota, we were still on the off. On the plane, though, we had seats next to each other. The entire way we didn't talk, but then, as we were landing, Guy reached over and grabbed my hand. He remembered that I hate planes. Not that that's an easy thing to forget, I've been talking about how much I've been dreading the flights to and from Florida for weeks now. I hate planes.   
  
"Hi," Julie says, sounding as if she finds this moment awkward. She knows about Guy and me.   
  
"Hey," I say with a wave of my hand before turning back to my suitcase.   
  
"Connie, can I talk to you for a second?"   
  
I look at him. He's giving me his 'Sad Guy' face. I can't resist it.   
  
"Sure," I sigh.   
  
"Good," he takes a step into the room.   
  
"I'll give you two some privacy." Julie starts to back away. I try to grab hold of her arm before she can go, but it doesn't work and she sneaks past me. Sometimes I think she's on Guy's side...   
  
Julie shuts the door behind herself as she goes, and now it's just Guy and me, alone in a room, together.   
  
"So..." I try to seem casual. "What did you want to talk about?"   
  
"I don't know..."   
  
"Guy-"   
  
"Look, I was thinking. Maybe the last time we broke up-" two months ago "-we, well, we shouldn't have."   
  
"Guy, I don't know..."   
  
"I know, I know... I can act like a jerk when we date." That's true, he really can. He forgets anniversaries, cancels dates, and even flirts with the occasional other girl. "And you know when I get nervous I say stupid things-"   
  
"Guy-"   
  
"Connie-"   
  
"Guy-"   
  
"I know-"   
  
This conversation is going nowhere. Why do we keep cutting each other off? I think it may be a pride thing. Or one of those 'Who has the power?' trips.   
  
"No, I don't think you do. I mean, you can't just come into my room, kick Julie out, and tell me that you want us to date again-"   
  
"I didn't kick Julie out-"   
  
"You know what I mean..."   
  
"I didn't kick Julie out."   
  
"You did-"   
  
"Did not-"   
  
"Did to-"   
  
"Did not-"   
  
This could go on for awhile.   
  
Guy and I have been fighting a lot recently. I think our entire relationship is based on us fighting.   
  
"Fine, you didn't kick Julie out!" I concede sometimes, but only to work towards a greater good. "Back on topic, you can't just come into my room and tell me - out of nowhere, I might add - that you want us to be a couple again! Real couples don't work like that!" Not to mention the fact that we're fifteen, and I don't think couples are real at fifteen years of age. It all seems kind of cheesy...   
  
"Come on Connie! We're not like most people... We're different," if he says 'We're Ducks', I might have to kick him out, "We have different ways of doing things."   
  
"Different ways of doing things?!" Deep breath in, deep breath out. Breathe Connie, calm yourself down. "Guy, you know I would never want to be with anyone but you, but, really, why can't you just ask me out like a normal-"   
  
"You would never want to be with anyone but me?"   
  
Sure, that's what he picks up on.   
  
***  
Julie's POV  
***   
  
I rest my head in my hands as I sit against the wall with my legs folded in front of me. Next to me is the door to my room, the room which I left twenty minutes ago to give Connie an Guy some time to talk. I'm hoping they finally work out whatever minor problem they're having this week. Those two are always getting into fights about the most random things...   
  
"Hey Julie..."   
  
I look up to see Portman, the more intimidating of the two Bash Brothers, just coming out of his room across the hall. He's still talking, but I haven't really been listening.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Nice outfit." He smirks and I look down at my clothes. I'm wearing a big red polo shirt and a mid thigh length blue skirt. They don't match in the slightest, I forgot that I was only half way changed. I also realize that sitting this way while wearing a skirt isn't the smartest I idea, so I resettle myself with my legs closed in front of me.   
  
"I was in the middle of changing when I got kicked out of my room," I point to the door to my side. "Connie and Guy are having 'alone time'."   
  
"Again?" Portman asks, his eyes widening. "They seem like they're at it all the time-"   
  
"Oh, yeah," I sigh sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Those two love birds..."   
  
"Is something wrong between them?" There's no concern in his voice, just interest. That's the Portman I'm used.   
  
"No," I sigh, "It's business as usual for them."   
  
They're always mad at each other now. I guess they always have been, but I didn't know them in the very beginning, back when they were ten... It's odd how they claim their 'relationship' started when they were ten. That just seems a little young to me...   
  
I look up to tell Portman this, but I realize he probably wouldn't care. I also realize that he's already dressed for this dinner thing...   
  
"How much time do we have before we leave?" No, that wasn't an obvious topic switch or anything...   
  
"About half an hour," Portman informs me. "I'm gonna be in the kitchen if anybody needs me."   
  
"Okay," I nod after him, but he's already walking away. Half an hour. I wonder if Guy and Connie are almost done talking... I would kind of like to go to dinner in matching clothes...   
  
The door opens. Guy steps out.   
  
"Did you work it out?" I ask him, and he looks down at me, startled, as if I was the last person he expected to see sitting outside my room.   
  
"Julie..." That's his evasive tone. No, I guess they didn't solve anything. "Maybe. I'm not sure, though."   
  
"Not sure?"   
  
"I never can be with Connie..."   
  
I smile. Yeah, Connie has a way of always keeping Guy at bay...   
  
It's amazing how much control she has in that relationship. I wonder if Guy notices it. I think he does. I think he's always known that Connie's the controlling one, but that doesn't seem to bother him too much. He always comes back for more. 


	3. Dinner

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
  
**Chapter 2 - Dinner**   
  
***  
Fulton's POV  
***   
  
I really don't like this dinner. It's bad enough I'm stuck in this heat for the next two weeks, but to have to be wearing a sports coat too? Not just any sports coat, but an ugly black one with the Eden Hall crest sown onto the left hand side. Now everyone knows that I go to a prep school. Everyone thinks I'm a preppy. This is terrible. How did Coach Orion make coming to Florida sound like a good thing?   
  
Oh yeah, it was somewhere to go that wasn't school and wasn't home. I know that that's what appealed the most to me.   
  
This dinner's been going on for at least half an hour now and I have yet to see any food. There's no food, anywhere. Who holds a dinner without food?   
  
I'm starved. I turn to my right and see Portman. He's playing with the tablecloth, rolling it up and unrolling it again. To my left is Charlie. He's facing forward, pretending to be interested in the guy who's speaking. Maybe he really is interested, though I don't see how that's possible. This speaker has been going on and on now about boring stuff. Non-hockey related stuff. All around the room I see tables of teams, all of whom look fascinated with what this guy is saying, and all I can think is 'Where's the food? Who holds a dinner without food?'.   
  
"And so, without further delay, I would like to introduce John T. Gardner, head coach of Avon Old Farms' varsity team, five year champions of the Laernu Hockey Clinic." There's lots of clapping.   
  
That guy was just the introduction? Damn this is going to take forever...   
  
A stodgy looking guy with sandy hair and an expensive suit approaches the podium with the mic. The intro guy shakes the new guy's hand and then takes a seat. New guy leans into the mic and starts breathing into it. Creepy.   
  
"Good evening everybody," New Guy smiles at the crowd. I hope he doesn't take too long. "I am John Gardner, head coach at AOF, and let me first say thank you to Mr. Martin for that wonderful introduction, and second that it is an honor to be speaking here tonight-"   
  
Charlie hits me in the side.   
  
"What?" I ask in my threatening voice, it's not alright to hit me in the side.   
  
"Avon Old Farms is here!" Charlie expects what he says to have some sort of meaning, but it doesn't.   
  
"Who's Avon Old Farms?" I whisper back.   
  
"Only the Prep League champions for the past three years now!"   
  
"Shhh!" Across the table, Julie is motioning for us to be quiet.   
  
"Sorry," Charlie whispers back to her, then turns to me. "Avon Old Farms has the best high school hockey team in the country-"   
  
"Then how come I haven't heard of them?"   
  
If he calls me stupid, I _will_ hurt him. I know Charlie won't call me that, though. He's one of my best friends, he knows I'm not as thick as I come off.   
  
"I don't know..." Charlie shakes his head. "They're based in Connecticut..."   
  
"Connecticut?"   
  
"Small state, east coast-"   
  
I hit him.   
  
Then I nudge Portman.   
  
"Have you ever heard of Avon Old Farms?"   
  
"Huh?" Portman looks at me. He obviously hasn't been paying attention to anything but the tablecloth.   
  
"The school, Avon Old Farms, have you ever heard of it?"   
  
He thinks for a bit, then shrugs.   
  
"Don't they have a really good hockey team?"   
  
I don't even have to turn back to Charlie to know that he's going to tell me something along the lines of 'I told you so'.   
  
"I told you-" Charlie starts in, but is interrupted as Julie 'Shhhes' him again. I'm fine with this, it gives me a chance to face front again and start listening to Gardner's speech. If he's really the head coach of the best high school hockey team in the country, then maybe I can learn something from him.   
  
***  
Averman's POV  
***   
  
The dinner is buffet style, which wouldn't bother me except for the fact that I'm sitting next to Goldie who feels the need to get up and get more food every five minutes. Every time he stands or sits he hits me _and_ knocks the table out of place. He's already caused a glass of water to spill all over my shirt and a chicken leg to fall in my lap. I really don't think I can take any more of this.   
  
"Hey, Ave, are you gonna eat the rest of that chicken?" He's pointing to the piece which fell in my lap. No, I wasn't planning on eating it. He can go right on ahead...   
  
"No, you can have it," I push my plate towards him. I'm not very hungry tonight. Maybe it was that coach who gave the scary speech all about most teams today lacking motivation, but how his is always willing to work. People like that scare me. Another thing that scares me is that the coach guy also made it fairly apparent that I'm going to be expected to play hockey while I'm here.   
  
Now, don't get me wrong, I expected some hockey. In fact, I figured I'd end up spending large parts of each day on the ice, but I never knew that I would have to play against other teams. This is supposed to be a clinic! I'm supposed to be expanding my horizons, sharpening my skills, growing as a person and as a player, not getting beaten to a pulp by some of the best high school hockey teams in the country!   
  
Especially this Avon Old Farms team, I'm scared to play them. They voluntarily work...   
  
The Ducks are spread out at two tables. At one mine there's Luis, Russ, Goldberg, Ken, and Coach Orion. How my table got stuck with Orion I don't know. He probably thinks that we need to be supervised at all times, but I know that's not true. Honest.   
  
Ken and Russ are good kids at least. Sure, Luis is turned around in his chair so that he can talk to an all girl team (many of whom look slightly to manly to be female), and Goldie and I are getting into our usual scrimmages every few minutes, but I hardly see this as need for chaperone. Really, I think Orion is with us because the other table filled up so fast. Portman, Fulton, Charlie, Guy, Connie, and Julie are over there.   
  
Hey, only eleven of us came... Why didn't I think of numbers before, eleven is just barely enough for two lines assuming Goldie plays defense and the Cat Lady stays in goal the whole time. How are we going to play without Dwayne and Banksie here?   
  
"Hey," Goldie is jabbing me in the ribs with his finger. "Hey, Averman-"   
  
"What?"   
  
"They just brought the dessert out, wanna come with me to get some?"   
  
I stare at him blankly. Isn't he full yet? Doesn't he realize that stocking up on the food isn't going to help him not killed when we have to play all these scary, scary teams? I'm really scared about playing that girls team Luis is talking to, they look buff...   
  
"Sure, I could use some pie." We stand. If you can't beat them, eat pie. That's my life motto. That and 'Don't get killed'.   
  
I follow Goldberg, he seems to know where the best desserts are being placed. You think I'm joking, but he really is able to sense this kind of stuff. Goldie skips right over all of that puffy-creamy-flaky-new-age-crap and goes straight to the good stuff. Mmm... Key lime pie, there's only one slice left, sitting, lonely, on a plate, begging me to take it.   
  
Goldberg and I spot it at the same time.   
  
"It's mine!" We cry in unison, our hands already reaching towards it-   
  
A hand comes out of nowhere and grabs the plate. The piece is gone. I look up to see who took it.   
  
"Hey, that was our piece!" I say before lifting my eyes from the table to find a rather large boy. If he could even be called a boy. Really, he's huge.   
  
"Sorry," he says as if he doesn't really care. He turns nonchalantly and walks over to his buddies at the other end of the dessert table. He points to Goldie and I and they all start laughing. Goldberg sees this too.   
  
"Let me at him!" He cries, but I grab onto his shoulder and tug him back. "Come on, Ave!" I shake my head at him. "But, but it's pie! If it's pie, it's personal!"   
  
I couldn't agree more, honestly, but I have this amazing sense of self restraint. And self preservation. This all goes back to my 'Don't get killed' outlook on life.   
  
The pie-stealer and his friends are still laughing while most of them walk back to their tables together. One of them comes over to Goldie and me, though, a smirk still on his face.   
  
"Lesson one of the Laernu Hockey Clinic, quick reflexes get you everything," he says in a snotty voice. Preppy. Goldie tries to pull out of my grip, but again I hold him back. "Lesson two, Avon Old Farms always gets what Avon Old Farms wants."   
  
And Avon Old Farms had to want that particular piece of pie?   
  
The Avon Old Farms boy's eyes glance down at the crest on my jacket. Dead give away what school I go to. Great, now he's going to be gunning for us...   
  
"Eden Hall?" He asks, as if he's not sure that's what he just read.   
  
Quickly, make up a name of a school, make up something, anything, tell him that this isn't really your jacket, that he has no reason to beat up people from Eden Hall-   
  
"Yeah, that's right." Goldberg, don't say anything I'll have to hurt you for... "We're from Eden Hall, and just wait until we get out onto the ice, we'll kick your butt! I'll show you who has fast reflexes-" He moves forward, I pull him back. Avon Old Farms laughs a little. We obviously pose no threat to him. "I'll show you how to take the last piece of pie-"   
  
"Okay, Goldie, that one doesn't even make sense..." I try to speak quietly, as if that will make the big scary boy go away.   
  
It works.   
  
Sort of.   
  
He laughs.   
  
"See you losers on the ice tomorrow!"   
  
***  
Charlie's POV  
***   
  
"You got into a fight over _pie_?" I shake my head at Averman and Goldberg. Those two never cease to amaze me...   
  
"It was a really good pie, Charlie-" Goldberg begins.   
  
"Well, we assume it was good," Averman cuts him off. "We never actually got to try it as Avon Old Farms did get to it first..."   
  
I can't believe this.   
  
I can't believe this.   
  
Actually, it's probably not that big of a deal. So what, one guy gets to a piece of pie before someone on my team, what's that gonna do? I look at Goldberg, he's muttering something about pay back to himself.   
  
This cannot be good...   
  
We're always villanizing some team, turning someone into our enemy. In the beginning we hated the Hawks, then Iceland, and then the Varsity. Now we're supposed to hate AOF too? I am so close to putting money on us having a final showdown with them, and us miraculously pulling through... That's what has always happened in the past. But no, that's not going to happen again. Tomorrow, I'm going to go the AOF captain and explain to him that the Ducks don't want any trouble, and that it was just pie, nothing to get worked up over.   
  
"Hey Charlie," Averman tears me from my thoughts, "You seem to be concentrating pretty hard on something-"   
  
"It's nothing. I was just thinking."   
  
"About the pie?"   
  
"About how we came here to learn, not to form grudges..."   
  
"Really? We came here to learn?" Averman looks surprised. "I thought we came because it was a free trip to Florida..." 


	4. First Day

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
  
**Chapter 3 - First Day**   
  
***  
Portman's POV  
***   
  
It's too early in the morning. _Way_ too early. This is supposed to be spring break, who's the idiot making me get up at six?   
  
Mr. Martin.   
  
He looks pretty stupid standing in front of ice rink bleachers filled with hockey players; all of us dressed in our gear, him wearing a rich suit and tie combo. I don't think he knows how stupid he looks. I yawn as he claps his hands together, as if that's going to get everybody's attention...   
  
"Kids," he says, clapping his hands again. "If I might have your attention please." He pauses and waits until we're silent. Mostly silent. "Thank you. Now, I know most of you are returning players, but for all of the new participants here I would like to run down the schedule for the next two weeks." He's going to tell us all what we're doing for the next two weeks? This is going to take forever. "You have all been assigned into random groups which will be announced in a few moments." Random groups? I won't be with the Ducks? I won't be with Fulton? "For the next week, you will work with your group on different techniques and skills. For the second week, you and your team will regroup and there will be a clinic tournament." Great, so after they split teams apart, they'll force everyone back together in this hokey 'Get along way'. "I remind you, this is all in fun and everybody is here to learn and grow." This sounds so cheesy... Just remember, free trip to Florida, free trip to Florida... "Now, each coach will be taking a different group of players. Please remain seated until all the names of your groups have been called, then proceed to wear ever your group coach wants you to meet. First to announce his group will be Coach Gardner."   
  
Some people start to clap as the coach who spoke last night steps in front of the group. He coaches Avon Old Farms. He must suck.   
  
"Alright," he sounds angry, "My group..." He looks down at the piece of paper he holds in his hand. "Bell, Brendan. Courthouse, Travis. Day, Katharine. Fried, Track. Frogon, Christopher. Gaffney, Julie." One duck down, ten to go. I look over at Julie, she's frowning. I guess she didn't want to be picked this early on. The coach is still reading off names as Julie turns her head towards me and we lock eyes. Weird. "Portman, Dean." What? I was called already? Well, I guess things could be worse. At least I've got Julie. I look over at her again, she's smiling at me. At least I've got Julie... Gardner's still listing people. Maybe I'll get another Duck. Maybe I already got one while I wasn't paying attention. "Tyson, Matthew. Warner, Timothy." He stops. I guess that's the end of the list. "Meet me in-" he looks at his watch "-five minutes in locker room four." He claps his hands once and steps away, another coach is making his way forward.   
  
I look over at Julie again. She's standing, making her way, slowly, off of the bleachers. I follow her.   
  
My group is about fifteen people big. I guess I really wasn't paying attention when names were being called...   
  
I honestly don't know where this locker room seven is. I'm just following the people in front of me, they seem to know where they're going.   
  
We make our way into the room. It's a regular locker room. Gardner isn't here yet.   
  
I take a seat next to Julie.   
  
She looks at me and sighs. "Feels weird to be separated from the group, doesn't it?"   
  
Sort of.   
  
"Yeah, it does," I nod. "It's gonna be strange without Fulton."   
  
She nods back.   
  
We like to nod.   
  
Us Ducks nod together.   
  
No one else in the room is talking. Are Julie and I the only ones from the same team?   
  
Gardner walks into the room. He doesn't sit down.   
  
"Does everyone already know everyone?" I don't like his tone of voice. All of us shake are heads no. "Let's go around the room then. Introduce yourself, your name, your town, your school, your position." He nods towards the boy sitting on the ends of one of the benches.   
  
"I'm Chris," the boy says, his voice shaking. "Chris Frogon from Seattle, Washington. I play center at Burling Academy."   
  
Gardner nods at him. Hockey's a real nodding sport I guess. Hockey players don't like to talk much. Exception of Averman, of course.   
  
The next kid starts off. Name, town, school. This goes on for awhile.   
  
"My name's Julie Gaffney, I'm from Bangor, Maine, I go to Eden Hall and I play goalie." Julie gets some glares as she speaks. I guess some of these boys aren't used to playing with girls.   
  
"Portman, Chicago, Eden Hall, enforcer."   
  
"There must be some mistake," Gardner is talking, looking down at a piece of paper, a scowl on his face. "On my list it says your name is Dean." He's using the 'I'm a Coach, I Have the Control' sarcastic voice.   
  
"Dean Portman, that's my name."   
  
"So your name is _Dean_. Thank you for clarifying that _Dean_."   
  
A few of the guys around the room are laughing. Julie has grabbed on to my arm. She must know that I feel like jumping any jerk who calls me by my first name. Only a few people are allowed to call me Dean, and this coach is not one of them.   
  
"I'm Tim Warner-" I'm waiting for Gardner to jump in on this kid and call him 'Timothy', but it doesn't happen "-I'm from Simsbury, Connecticut and I'm freshmen goalie at Avon Old Farms."   
  
Gardner smiles at the kid, Tim. So... There's an AOF guy in my group...   
  
"My name's Brendan Bell and I'm from Avon, Connecticut. I play forward for AOF."   
  
Correction, two AOF guys in my clinic. Oh, this is going to be fun...   
  
***  
Guy's POV  
***   
  
I've been separated from everyone. Really, everyone.   
  
At least Connie got put in Orion's group, I don't have anybody to talk to in mine.   
  
We're on the ice, supposedly warming up, but nobody's moving. Our 'coach' is late. She told us to meet her here in ten minutes, and it's been more than ten minutes. I look around at my group, they all look as unhappy as I feel. I yawn. It's too early in the morning for this.   
  
One of the guys in my group starts to skate literal circles around the rest of us. He has too much energy for the morning. I can tell by his jersey that he goes to some school called Westminster Academy. They told us not to wear our school jerseys here, said that it would only keep us separated. Apparently, we're all supposed to bond over our coach being ten minutes late. Westminster kid doesn't think so. He just keeps skating in circles.   
  
The girl next to me taps me on the arm.   
  
"Do you know where our coach is?"   
  
Do I look like I know? Why ask me?   
  
I just shake my head.   
  
"My name's Melody," she says in response. Oh, so she was just trying to start a conversation with me... Yeah, I know, I'm a real ladies' man.   
  
"I'm Guy." And my girlfriend's name is Connie.   
  
"Is this your first year at Laernu?" I nod. "This is my second."   
  
"Oh." I'm not sure what to say.   
  
"You seem nervous." I'm not. "Don't worry, nothing bad's going to happen here." Well, you never know... I might get so mad at our coach for not being here that when she shows up I'll tell her off and a whole nasty chain of events will begin. "I had a really good time here last year." And then, because of the domino effect and bad karma, the entire world will become a terrible place to live. "This is a really great place to, you know, meet people from all over the country." And then, once the world is living in misery, it will all be traced back to that one day in a Florida ice rink when a coach showed up - look at watch - fifteen minutes late for the first workshop of a clinic. "So, where are you from?"   
  
"Minnesota. I go to Eden Hall."   
  
"Oh, Eden Hall..." Melody looks like she's trying to find something good to say about the school. "Yeah, your school placed really well in the tournament last year."   
  
"Where are you from?"   
  
"Ohio originally, but I'm playing with Miss Porter's now."   
  
Miss Porter's? Is that supposed to be a school?   
  
"Oh, cool... Neat..." I really can't think of anything to say...   
  
"Yeah, Miss Porter's is great..."   
  
"And Ohio, that must be good..."   
  
"Yeah, Ohio's a great state."   
  
I've never been there. Please won't the coach get here soon so that all of this pleasant chitchat can end?   
  
"Ow!"   
  
Westminster has fallen down. It looks like he landed on his wrist. That must hurt.   
  
Immediately, everyone skates over to where Westminster lays. This would be the perfect moment for the coach to show up. I think she senses this, because right as Westminster starts demanding to be taken to a first aid kit, a woman of about forty skates out onto the ice.   
  
"Alright, who's ready to learn?" She looks at us. It's funny because I can tell the exact moment she notices Westminster. Her eyes get big and she slips a little. "Oh good lord, what happened here..."   
  
***  
Connie's POV  
***   
  
I nearly fall before I reach the lunch table that the other Ducks have picked out. I am so tired. I never thought a clinic would be so much work. It also doesn't help that this cafeteria doesn't seem to be air conditioned.   
  
I rest my tray on the table and sigh before collapsing into my seat.   
  
"Rough morning?" Julie is sitting across from me, she wears an expression of exhaustion similar to my own.   
  
"Extremely," I nod.   
  
"And just think," Averman starts in, "We get to go right back to work after lunch."   
  
There's a collective grown from everyone at the table. Speaking of which, I look down the table to see who's here. Guy's still not back yet, and neither are Charlie and Russ. Everyone else seems to be here, though. All of us are trying hard not to fall asleep in our food.   
  
I didn't think Coach Orion would work us so hard, but he did. It's like he forgot that hockey season ended a month ago and most of us haven't been training since then. Who am I kidding with most of us? All of us are out of hockey habit! Well, all of the Ducks at least. There were a couple of guys in my clinic who seemed really anxious to work. Weirdoes.   
  
"So, what are we going to do tonight?"   
  
I look up to see Luis smiling down the table at all of us. He seems fairly chipper.   
  
"Well," Goldberg starts in, "I don't know about you guys, but I was planning to go back to our condo, relax, maybe kill myself so that I won't have to relive this training nightmare."   
  
"I'm right there with you, man," Averman nods along.   
  
"Come on!" Luis sounds like he might even have - gasp - energy. "We're in Florida, it's spring break, there's so much night life here, we have to go do _something_!"   
  
I can see where he's coming from. Even if I don't quite feel like doing _anything_ right at the moment, I can at least see where he's coming from...   
  
"Gregory!"   
  
Gregory? Huh? Oh, Goldberg. Who's calling Goldberg by his first name? I see a man I don't know hovering above Goldberg.   
  
"Yes, Coach Kirson?" Ah, that must be Goldberg's clinic coach. Why does Goldie look so scared?   
  
"What did I say about eating better playing better?"   
  
"Y-You said it was good, sir," Goldberg gives a kind of salute with his hand. "Good eat good play. Eat good play good."   
  
Eat well, play well. Grammar. Please use proper grammar.   
  
Coach Kirson leans in to inspect Goldberg's food. From where I am, I can't really see his tray, but I figure it's got to have the usual stuff on it. Goldberg isn't the biggest fan of eating healthy.   
  
"And you call this piece of pizza healthy?"   
  
"N-No sir, that pizza belongs to-" Goldberg looks around the table "-Averman, my friend Averman. I just brought him the pizza, you know, kind of like a gesture of friendship. I was just about to go get myself a salad." Goldberg stands and smiles at his coach. "See you at afternoon practice, Coach Kirson."   
  
The coach smirks as he walks away. Averman shrugs and reaches across the table to grab the piece of pizza in question. He drops it onto his own plate and looks at the rest of us.   
  
"Hey, no need to waste good pizza." He lifts up and takes a bite and I can't help but laugh.   
  
"What's so funny?"   
  
Guy is standing over me now.   
  
"Oh, Goldberg, pizza, salad," Julie says. "You really had to be there."   
  
"I miss all the funny stuff, don't I?"   
  
Guy takes the empty seat to my right. I look over at him and smile. He smiles back.   
  
"Do you have plans for tonight?" He looks surprised that I've asked him that. He shakes his head.   
  
"No, why?"   
  
"Well, Luis was talking about all of us doing something. I thought maybe you might have some ideas on what to do..." That's right, Connie, make the first move. I always have to be the one to make the first move. Years of hockey have made me a very aggressive person. 


	5. A Night Out

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
  
**Chapter 4 - Night Out**   
  
***  
Averman's POV  
***   
  
Somewhere along the line today, it was decided that all of us Ducks were going to go to some beach club place thing. Now that I'm here at this beach club place this, I strongly regret ever agreeing to come along.   
  
There's music playing, blasting from the speakers on the stage. There's no band going with them, in fact, the stage seems to serve no purpose whatsoever. It's just kind of attached to the outside wall of a building, and seems to hold nothing but a couple of speakers. People are dancing all around it, some have even dared to go on to it, but all come down again. There's this guy who stands next to the stage and yells at anyone for even looking at the steps the wrong way.   
  
The people who aren't paying homage to the Stage Guarding Man have made their way further down the beach. I have to admit, the whole idea of an outside club kind of throws me off. Maybe that's because I'm so used to Minnesota where things are all kept inside, or maybe it's because it was so easy to sneak in here without paying entrance fees or showing any form of identification, but whatever the reason, this club kind of irks me. It does not seem to annoy the other Ducks, though. Well, the Ducks I haven't lost track of. From where I'm sitting, I can only see about half the team.   
  
By the stage, I can see Connie and Guy dancing. Apparently those two crazy kids are back together, but then again, maybe they never broke up. It's pretty hard to tell with them.   
  
Not too far from them, Luis is surrounded by a gaggle or girls, all throwing back their heads and giggling every couple of minutes. Maybe they're all robots. I really wouldn't know. Whatever they are, I notice Ken standing a few feet away from them, staring in amazement. Poor kid, it must suck to look like the youngest on the team. I'm not sure he actually is the youngest, though...   
  
Down the beach, I can see Portman and Fulton talking with a couple of leather clad girls. Leather? On a beach? Are they crazy? Portman seems to think so as every few seconds he turns his head and looks over towards me, a 'I will never threaten to beat you up again if you just save me this one time' look on his face. I'm considering taking him up on this offer, as my night is not currently filled with the fun and excitement I might have expected. I'm sitting by the bar, next to Goldberg who's finishing what I think might be his third basket of free mini pretzels. I could be wrong, though, that could be his fourth basket.   
  
I hit him on the arm to get his attention.   
  
"I'm going to go see what Portman's up to."   
  
He nods at me, then turns back his pretzels. I think he's trying to eat away at the pain caused by his coach today. Poor guy had his pizza taken away at lunch...   
  
I stand up and dust the pretzel crumbs off myself. Yeah, so sue me, I indulged in a basket of my own...   
  
Slowly, I make my way over to the Bash Brothers. I'm not sure why I'm walking so slowly, maybe because I want to prolong Portman's pain, make him really grateful when I finally save him from the clutches of these leather clad vixens...   
  
"Hello ladies," I smile at them. They don't even look up at me.   
  
"And so then, I told Spyder that it was through between us, but he didn't seem to care-" One of the girls keeps rambling on. I hit Portman on the shoulder.   
  
"Hey, Portman, um, I need to talk to you."   
  
He looks at me, I can see the 'Thank you Averman, you are my God' expression in his eyes.   
  
"Can it wait?" Yeah, try to trick these girls into thinking that this is a matter of some importance, I see wear you're going Dean.   
  
"No, it can't," I shake my head, "My entire future is dependent on you coming with me right now." Yeah, I could have come up with something better to say than that...   
  
"Alright." Portman's not the best at dramatics. He turns to the girls. "I'm sorry, but my, uh, friend Averman-" I can see the pain in his face as he admits that I'm his friend. I smile. "-has, um, problems. Life threatening ones. I've got to, um, help him."   
  
"Yeah," I nod, "I've got big problems-"   
  
"Dude," Fulton cuts me off. "What problems?"   
  
"Didn't Averman tell you?" Portman, please be able to communicate to your second half that you want to escape. Those girls are scary looking, I think they'll hurt me if they realize that I'm trying to steal you. "He's got, uh, he's got, uh..." Come on Portman, you're my last hope... "He's got that thing. To do." Fulton might be buying it, but the girls certainly aren't. Scary, leather wearing girls.   
  
"A race," I say. "A car race." A car race? Even Portman was doing a better job of lying! I don't even have a license! "Like in the movie Grease. It's over territory."   
  
"Dude, why are you fighting for territory in Florida?" Shut up Fulton.   
  
"You know Averman," Portman shrugs, "He's always saying stupid things and getting himself into stupid situations."   
  
Oh, thanks for the back up...   
  
"Oh, okay." Fulton nods. "I'll see you later, then." He turns back to the girls, no more questions. Wow...   
  
Portman looks at me, and I look back at him. Cautiously he stands. I smile, but stop as he grabs onto my arm.   
  
"Come on," he says in a harsh whisper, "We're going home."   
  
"What? But why?"   
  
"Because you have to get ready for your _race_."   
  
Oh, ha... Ow, could Portman let go just a little bit? That guy has a strong grip...   
  
***  
Portman's POV  
***   
  
As soon as the beach side club is out of view, I let go of Averman's arm and grab onto his ear.   
  
"Hey!" He shrieks back.   
  
"A race? You're not even old enough to have a license!"   
  
"They didn't know that!"   
  
"Fulton does!"   
  
"Oh, yeah, heh..." He shrugs. I sigh and let go of his ear.   
  
"Thanks for saving me," I finally say.   
  
"Hey, no problem, what are friends for?" I growl at him. I don't want Averman that I consider him to be one of my friends. That would be scary if he knew that he had that kind of power. "Alright, alright, not friends then... What are Ducks for?"   
  
"Well, thanks man, I owe you one." There's a phrase I'm going to regret saying. Amazingly, Averman doesn't take me up on the offer right away, just shrugs and continues walking down the beach.   
  
I have no sense of direction, but I think our condo's nearby. Averman seems to think so too.   
  
Sure enough, in only a few more minutes we reach our temporary home sweet home. Averman makes room for me to go first. I know he's just doing this in case Orion is in the living room, waiting to yell at us all for going out without his permission, so that he can sneak away before the lecture begins. If I have to take blame, then I'll count this as the one I owe to Averman.   
  
As quietly as possible, I slide open the glass door which leads into the living area. We left it unlocked when we left so that we could get in without fumbling around for a key, but now that seems like kind of a stupid idea, us being so close to the beach and all. Anyone could have entered. No one has, though, as I step into the room to see nothing out of place.   
  
Averman steps in after me, sliding the door shut behind him.   
  
"Looks like we made it home safely," he says to me, his voice no more than a whisper. I nod at him and he walks past me towards the stairs which lead up to four of the bedrooms. At least I'm guessing he's walking towards the stairs, it's too dark to really see anything at all. All of the furniture has turned into big shady blurs, and the door leading to the stairs has blended in with the walls.   
  
Huh, I might need to find that door if I plan to go upstairs... All of the Ducks' rooms are upstairs, only Orion's room is down on the first level. Bastard took the one nice room...   
  
I'm hungry.   
  
Instead of trying to find my way to my room, I head to the kitchen. The Laernu place stocked it with all sorts of good stuff. I think I'll make myself a sandwich.   
  
After piling a layer of salami on top of a layer of cheese, I hear a noise at the door. I turn around to see Julie. Julie. She looks tired, she's rubbing her eyes.   
  
"Did I wake you up?"   
  
She nods.   
  
"It was my own fault, though, I fell asleep on the living room couch." She stayed here? I thought she came with us to the club.   
  
"I thought you came with the rest of us to that club place?"   
  
She shakes her head.   
  
"No, I was too tired. I decided to stay back. Read." She was reading during her free time? Julie's like that for some reason. She seems to actually have enjoy the academic parts of school. "So, did you have fun?"   
  
"No, not really," I put a piece of bread on top of my sandwich, finishing it off. I stare down at it. "Want some sandwich?"   
  
"What kind is it?"   
  
"Salami."   
  
She purses her lips together. It's funny how she looks like she's really considering my offer, as if there were pros and cons to a salami sandwich.   
  
"Sure, I'll have some."   
  
I open one of the drawers and grab a knife. I cut the sandwich in half and give one piece to Julie, who's putting the ingredients back in the fridge. She smiles at me as I drop the knife into the sink.   
  
"So, where did you guys go exactly?"   
  
"To this club down the beach. It had potential, but didn't feel right." Scary leather chicks made it not so much fun. They kept talking about death and people with odd names. Fulton seemed to like them, though.   
  
"I'm not a big fan of clubs either. Or socializing in general." Julie takes a bite of her piece of the sandwich. Is she trying to tell me that she's quiet, because I already knew that... "I'm not much of an extravert."   
  
There's nothing wrong with that, I want to tell her. I've never been much of a people-person, either.   
  
"You don't seem that quiet to me."   
  
"I'm not quiet when it comes to hockey." She takes another bite. I take one too. "That's why my parents got me into the sport, so that I would socialize more. They think I don't have enough friends..."   
  
"My parents pushed me into hockey so that there'd be a time and place for me to beat kids up." It's true. There's a psych term for that: sublimation. That's what my parents always told me when I was little, that hockey was a good way to get rid of my negative energy. They thought I'd start making friends like a normal little kid if I was forced to work with others. I think their plan backfired. I scared off even more kids once I started playing. By the time I left for the Jr. Goodwill Games, I really didn't have anyone in Chicago to talk to. Everyone was either scared of me or... No, they were all scared of me.   
  
"Oh yeah, well when I first started playing hockey, I chose to play goalie just so that I wouldn't have to hang around with my teammates very much."   
  
"Well my entire team back in Chicago was so afraid of me that no one talked to me off the ice."   
  
"I always liked goal because it was like I was hiding in a corner. I used to pretend no one could see me if I was in there." Julie laughs to herself.   
  
"What about the guys taking shots on you?" I didn't mean that to be funny, but Julie laughs again.   
  
"I think they helped me to get over the whole 'shy' thing. That, and I liked all the thanks I got for blocking shots." She finishes her sandwich. I still half of mine left. "When I play hockey it's almost as if I don't have to be quiet. I can be brave. I can even talk to people if I really feel like it."   
  
"I know what you mean." I do, too. Playing hockey, being around the Ducks, I don't have to worry about accidentally intimidating my friends. I can intimidate them on purpose now. It's like my team is my family.   
  
"It's like the Ducks are my family," Julie steals my thought. "I don't have to worry about what I say and do. I can ne myself." She smiles up at me, then yawns. "And right now, I think myself wants to go to bed." She starts to walk out of the kitchen, then turns back. "Goodnight Portman."   
  
"See you bright and early at practice."   
  
Julie groans, then exits.   
  
I look at the clock on the oven. It's late, I should probably be getting to bed too. Stupid Gardner's making us meet so early in the morning... 


	6. Second Day Complaints

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
Author's Note - Please, please forgive any mistakes. Without a beta, I'm useless...   
  
**Chapter 5 - Second Day Complaints**   
  
***  
Julie's POV  
***   
  
I've said it before and I'll say it again: it cannot be smart to put kids with metal blades strapped to their feet on a slippery surface like ice so early in the morning. Agh, it's way too early.   
  
We've already been split into groups (offense, defense, goalie), but really my group is a joke. It consists of me and one other guy, Tim. Coach Gardner has yet to work with me, he'd pick his own player over a Duck any day, not that I can blame him. If I were a coach working with two goalies, one of whom I've worked with a lot and the other I just met, I would of course pick the one I knew well. Now, though, it's ridiculous, Tim's been getting all of the attention.   
  
He's not a bad guy, this Tim Warner. He's really the only person in my clinic group that I talk to besides Portman, and during practice time Tim's the only one left for me to talk with. He told me that his school's varsity team is here, but since their varsity goalie couldn't make it, he got to come along. He's seems pretty grateful to be here, which is good I guess. It's better than having him be all condescending and stuff, which his teammate, Bell, certainly seems to be.   
  
I think that may just be a goalie trait. I've never known one who was stuck up, even when the rest of his or her team was completely awful. It's like Scooter and the Varsity back at Eden Hall. He's always ready to stick up for the Ducks. Sure he flirted with me and led me on and _never once_ asked me out, but he's still a decent guy. Even Goldberg is good friend, when he's not trying to get himself back onto the first line.   
  
I look over at Tim who's getting yet another lecture from Gardner. Something about stopping the puck, not just looking at it. Tim just stares back at him and shrugs, Gardner looks upset. In the end, Gardner skates away and Tim comes back over to stand by me.   
  
"Does he want me to play for awhile?" I sound too hopeful.   
  
"No," Tim shakes his head. "He says he doesn't need a goalie for a little while. Says he's going to do some offense/defense drill now."   
  
"Oh." I sound too disappointed.   
  
"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll play you soon."   
  
I look over at Tim, he's watching the others out in the center of the rink. I turn in that direction too. Portman's been partnered up with the other girl, I think Katie's her name, though I could be wrong. I can tell he's trying not to hurt her too much. He's not using as much force as he usually does. I guess that's not unusual for him, though. Even in Ducks practices, when he faces off against Connie, he never treats her the same as all the other guys. I've never noticed that myself, but Connie's complained about it. She told me that she hates it when the other guys treat her differently. I'm not sure what I think about the issue, but I know that Portman's just doing what he thinks is best.   
  
"Are you really on the same team as that big guy?" That Big Guy. I know Tim means Portman.   
  
"Yeah," I nod.   
  
"And your school allows that? I mean, they let girls play on the same team?"   
  
"Yeah," I try to hold in a laugh. "Your school doesn't?"   
  
"I go to an all boy school." Oh, I guess his school wouldn't let girls play on the team then. "I've never even heard of a coed team before."   
  
I hadn't either, before I joined the Ducks. My team back in Maine was all girl. I has always assumed that hockey was a fairly gender separated game. I don't think that way anymore.   
  
"You'll get used to the idea," I say. "Just wait till you see how well my team does in the tournament next week."   
  
"Bet you you won't be as good as my team."   
  
"No, we'll be better." I'm just joking around, I hope Tim gets that. He smiles at me. Good, he gets it.   
  
"That's a pretty big claim, after all-" he changes his voice, takes on a stuffy tone, sounds almost like Bell "-Avon Old Farms is the reigning champion of the Laernu Hockey Clinic." We both laugh. Gardner looks over at us, and frowns.   
  
"I don't think your coach likes me much."   
  
"I don't think he likes anyone much."   
  
I disagree. Gardner seems to love his team. Right at this moment, he's using Bell as the example of 'the player that everyone should try to be'.   
  
"Hey, Julie," I turn to face Tim again, "Just stop me if this sounds presumptuous or ill intentioned or anything, but... Are you doing anything tonight?" What? Huh? Huh again? "Because, if you're not, I thought maybe you'd like to come back to the rink with me and practice. We could trade off taking shots on each other and stuff." I know my face must look blank. An AOF guy is asking me to practice with him? I thought Averman said AOF guys were the enemy... "If you can't make it, I could always ask one of the guys from my team, I just thought that, since, you know, neither of us has been put to much use these past two days-" It's early yet, Gardner could always play us still... "-that we could really help each other. Plus, we can trade goalie technique and stuff."   
  
There could be something wrong with his offer, something devious... No. He's a goalie, and a nice one too. He wouldn't be playing with me...   
  
"Sure, that sounds good."   
  
"Great!" He looks genuinely surprised that I accepted his offer. "I'll meet you in rink two at seven then?"   
  
Why rink two? Why not rink one or rink three? I don't ask this out loud.   
  
"Sounds like fun." It might sound fun. "It'd be good to get the practice in, too." It would.   
  
"Great, great..." Tim is smiling. He's kind of cute, even if he is Averman's enemy and all.   
  
I turn my eyes back to the center of the rink. The drill has stopped and Gardner is talking again. Portman looks over at me. I give him a small wave with my glove and he smiles back.   
  
"Dean! I want your attention here!" Gardner's shout causes Portman to look away again.   
  
Dean... That's really not a bad name... It almost fits Portman. Almost.   
  
***  
Russ' POV  
***   
  
Man, this clinic sucks.   
  
If it weren't for the fact that I'd be stuck back in the dorms alone right now, I wouldn't have come on this trip. My 'coach', Coach - and I use that word laughingly - Bettany, has been rambling on for the past hour now while showing us video footage of last year's tournament, commenting whenever somebody makes a mistake.   
  
Half the guys in this room right now are asleep. The only person who seems to find this interesting is Charlie, who's leaning forward and paying close attention to everything our coach - ha - says. It's been two days and we've only had rink time once.   
  
At lunch today, everyone else looked so tired. They were all complaining about hurt joints and shin splints and all that, and it shamed me to have to admit that my coach doesn't 'believe' in getting physical until everyone has the right mind set. I'll show him proper mind set alright...   
  
I thought it would be good to have Charlie in my group, 'cause at least then I'd have someone to talk to. A lot of the Ducks got screwed, they got no one they know. I thought, hell, I have Charlie, I know someone, how bad can these randomly assigned groups be? Apparently, they can be terrible. I forgot to factor in the fact that I might get a bad coach...   
  
I look over towards Charlie again. He really does look interested.   
  
"And, if you watch here, you can see the exact moment that #63 hooks the other team's #12." Yes, and if you really look here, you can see that this is all a load of bs. I'm not learning anything from this...   
  
There's a knock on the door. Thankfully, Bettany stops the tape and walks over to answer the door. A brief break...   
  
Charlie turns to me.   
  
"Isn't this great?" No.   
  
"Charlie, are you trying to tell me that you've actually been listening to this Bettany fool?" Charlie nods meekly.   
  
"You haven't?"   
  
"No, man. Half our group dropped off as soon as he pressed play! You're the only one paying attention to any of this!"   
  
Charlie frowns at me. Uh oh, I've over stepped my bounds... Any second now he's going to give me the same lines he's been feeding me for the past two days 'If Banks was here, he'd be learning something' or 'I bet Adam would be paying attention' or, my favorite, 'It's too bad Banksie's not here to appreciate this'. Charlie and Adam have gotten really close since Banks was put back onto JV, I think it really bugged him when Adam said he had to stay in Minnesota for break. Not that I think this justifies how much Spazway talks about the missing Cake-Eater...   
  
"It's too bad Ba-"   
  
"Group?" Saved by the coach. "It seems Coach Orion needs this area now, so if we could all move..."   
  
I don't mind. This will be the most moving I've done all day...   
  
I see Coach, real Coach, Orion Coach, step into the room, his group behind him. I see that Connie's with them. She spots Charlie and me and waves at us. I wave back and see Charlie smile at her.   
  
As we exit the room, I get close enough to Connie to talk to her.   
  
"How's your day going?"   
  
"Okay," she shrugs. Yeah, of course 'okay', she has a coach who looks favorably upon movement.   
  
"Then it's a hell of a lot better than mine."   
  
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I do not like this hockey clinic. It's a waste of my time. The tournament next week, though, that seems like it's gonna be more my style.   
  
***  
Connie's POV  
***   
  
The second I'm done with Orion's fun little mini lecture I bolt out of the locker room. I have to find Julie and ask her what's going on.   
  
At lunch today, Julie told me that one of the guy's in her group as good as asked her out. Every time we tried to bring the subject up at lunch, though, everyone else would just start trying to listen in. Julie wants this all to stay a secret I guess. She's shy like that. She never told the rest of the team that she had that crush on Scooter a few months back, and I don't think she ever even considered telling anyone but me how she _liked_ Portman back during the Jr. Goodwill Games.   
  
I bump into Julie just as she's coming off the ice. She's talking to a guy I've never seen before, that must be the one who asked her to practice tonight. He's pretty cute in a traditional sort of way, just the kind of boy I would picture Julie falling for. He has sandy blond hair and one of those faces that's blushing constantly.   
  
I wave at Julie to get her attention, she waves back. I walk over to wear she's standing.   
  
"Tim," she says to blushing boy, "This is my friend Connie. Connie, this is Tim."   
  
"Hi," I say.   
  
"Hi," he nods back. Hmm... I don't if I'll be able to evaluate his personality based on only a one syllable word. "I'll see you tonight, Julie." More words, that's helpful. He looks like he wants to get out of here.   
  
"Alright, see you then." Julie gives him permission to leave. Good, she's taking control. Though, I doubt she saw that exchange of words as giving permission... "Bye!"   
  
We both watch him as he waddles off, still in his gear. He's a goalie. I'm not sure whether that's a good sign or not, but I'm starting to think Julie might have a thing for goalies...   
  
"So, what do you think of him?" Most people would probably assume she wants my opinion on his appearance or his demeanor, but I know that that's not what Julie meant.   
  
"He's seems honest enough, from all six words I heard him speak..." She wants to know if she can trust him, all thanks to Averman and his insisting that Avon Old Farms players are the devil. Yes, the collective devil. "I think you can practice with him."   
  
"Good, because I was going to anyway." Julie sighs. "And it's not really like a date or anything, it's just us practicing... No pressure."   
  
"None at all."   
  
"Good."   
  
"Good."   
  
Neither one of us is buying this.   
  
I'm not sure whether or not this is a date. I don't think it is. How can hockey really qualify as a the foundation for a relationship? Then again, for serious hockey players, hockey is the foundation for everything.   
  
"Hey, Portman!" I wave to him as he exits the rink Julie just came off of. He looks upset. Julie told me that they have a tough coach, and that he's been picking on _Dean_ a lot.   
  
"Hey Connie, Julie." I take it back, Portman doesn't look upset, he looks exhausted. "Are you two going back to the condo?"   
  
"Yeah," I say. "I'm just waiting for Guy to meet me here first." Guy...   
  
Portman turns his attention to Julie.   
  
"Actually, I was going to wait around, eat dinner here, and then get some night practice in." I can tell Julie's trying not smile as she talks.   
  
"More practice?" Portman raises an eyebrow. It's a very intimidating face that he's making. "Are you crazy?"   
  
Julie shrugs. "Maybe." I smile. Crazy for her new goalie boy, Tim.   
  
If I said this out loud, Julie would hurt me.   
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Guy exiting the door of rink three. He's coming over here now. Good, he remembered that I would be waiting for him. I wave to let him know that I see him. He nods back at me.   
  
"Well," I look from Julie to Portman, "I will see you both back at the condo later." I pause, leaning in to Julie. "And I want details."   
  
Julie blushes as Portman flashes me a confused look. Oh well, he's not supposed to understand. It's a secret. A girly secret.   
  
I walk over to Guy.   
  
"How was your day?"   
  
He looks at me. "Okay." He pauses. "Better now that I'm with you again." I smile at him. "So, Connie, you ready to go home?"   
  
"So, Guy, were you planning on walking back to the condo still in your hockey gear?"   
  
He looks down at himself. I laugh as Guy hits me in the side with his glove.   
  
"It's an honest mistake!" He cries. Come on, Guy, admit it, you were just a little bit distracted by me... Connie, you're full of yourself. I stop laughing and look up at him, he's smiling too. "Can you just give me a minute to change?" 


	7. The Accident

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others. Also, I apologize to Higgins for making him out to be such a jerk. I'm sure in real life he's not like how this story depicts him .   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
  
**Chapter 6 - The Accident**   
  
***  
Averman's POV  
***   
  
I'm still at the rink now. Lucky me, I overheard Coach Orion telling one of the other coaches that he knew the Ducks went out last night. Apparently, we've embarrassed him, and now he plans on lecturing us. Which brings me back to the 'lucky me' part. I'm the smart guy who learned of all of this pre-lecture and has decided to hang around at the rinks for awhile.   
  
When I get back, I'll just say I was practicing.   
  
Maybe I'll need a better cover... I'm not sure Orion will buy that one about me working...   
  
So, dinner's over now and, from a safe distance, I watch Orion leave. I figure I'll wait an hour, then walk home. Standing from my table, I exit the cafeteria and make my way into the entrance hall type place.   
  
I've never been to a hockey arena this big. This place is, well, big.   
  
There are three separate rinks and about a million locker rooms (though I may be exaggerating slightly on that one) all in this one building. There's also the cafeteria. That's probably my favorite place here.   
  
I'm going to get back from Florida and my parents are going to ask how I liked my trip and all I'll be able to tell them is "The cafeteria served decent food". If I really feel like it, I can over generalize and assume that all of Florida has good food. Or, even worse, I can claim that Florida is just a big cafeteria. Enough cafeteria talk. I need to think about something else now.   
  
I can't spend a whole hour in this entrance hall.   
  
Maybe I'll go explore the locker rooms. I noticed earlier that quiet a few of them have TVs, maybe one of them gets cable. Yay cable.   
  
I'm taking a step towards the stairs down to the locker room when a couple of guys I never wanted to see again come towards me. That's right, they're the Pie Thieves.   
  
They look me up and down. I think they might recognize me. I've been told that I'm a very recognizable person. I've also been told that I have a very shrill voice, and that I snore, but I don't think either of those will come into play here. I stare back at the Pie Thieves, AOF players, and try my best to look intimidating. It isn't working.   
  
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Could he sound any cornier? This is real life, not a poorly scripted movie.   
  
"It looks like one of those Eden Hall kids."   
  
It? I'm not even human anymore? At least when I've been facing off teams in the past I've been given a gender. Sure, not always the right gender, but I've usually been personified in one way or another. Not today, though I guess. Today I'm just 'It Averman'.   
  
"Hi guys, can I do something for you?" That's right, self, just talk. That will make them not want to hurt you.   
  
AOF 1 looks over at AOF 2 and smiles. That's not a good smile.   
  
"I'm Higgins," AOF 1 holds out his hand to me. "The captain of the Avon Old Farms team."   
  
Huh, I guess I should shake his hand. I'm probably playing into a trap. The sad thing is, I realize that I'm playing into a trap, and still, I reach my hand out to him. Just as predicted, he slaps it away and starts laughing.   
  
Yeah, that's right Mr. Funny AOF Man, you can laugh now, but I'll be laughing when the Ducks kick your ass in the tournament next week. I don't say this part aloud because it would probably make Higgins angry. What kind of name is 'Higgins' anyway?   
  
AOF 2 is laughing now as well. Apparently the old 'Bet you can't shake my hand!' routine is big at Avon Old Farms.   
  
Higgins reaches over to AOF 2 and stops him from laughing. Good, they agree that the joke is going into over-kill. Higgins stares at me, a very deep kind of stare, the kind of stare Goldberg gives a salad. It's filled with loathing.   
  
"I've heard rumors that your team is pretty good." Good, Higgins' stare is really thrown off when he talks. "But you're nothing compared to AOF. Nothing." I swear I've heard this speech before with different teams in place of the 'AOF'. "We are not only going to defend our title this year, we're going to humiliate you in the process." Humiliate? That's a pretty big word for this oaf to know. Color me stunned.   
  
"Humiliate?" No, Averman, don't say it out loud, this guy can kill you with one finger. "That's a pretty big word for someone like _you_ to know. What are you planning to do, 'big-word-us to death on the ice'? Because there's no way in all seven layers of hell that your team can beat mine and-"   
  
I swear AOF 2 just growled. Growled. Like a dog. A very angry dog.   
  
"You'd better run, Big Mouth, or I'll do more than just use my extensive vocabulary on you..." Higgins is speaking the truth. I take off.   
  
All my hockey stuff is still in a pile on the floor, but that doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that I'm putting more and more space between me and the AOF guys. I turn my head to look behind me. I'm actually not putting enough space between us. They're gaining on me pretty fast. Really fast.   
  
I need to lose them.   
  
I see the perfect opportunity in front of me. One of the doors to rink two is wide open. I can run in there, slam the door behind me, and exit into one of the locker rooms while they're still trying to pry open the door. This could work. I could use my wit to lose these guys...   
  
I run into the rink. I'm fairly far up in the stands, not as close to the locker rooms as I want to-   
  
Wait.   
  
Is that Julie who's on the ice? Who's she with?   
  
"We're gonna catch you, kid, and then you'll be sorry!" AOF 2 is shouting at me, fortunately warning me that I do have people chasing me. I'd almost forgotten.   
  
I try to close the door, but it's not moving. It's stuck open. Oh well, I start down the bleacher stairs, turning my head around so that I can watch as Higgins and his friend get closer. I'm trying to run but it's not-   
  
Ow.   
  
"Ow!"   
  
***   
Julie's POV   
***   
  
I look up into the stands, someone is there, screaming. I glance over at Tim, he's moving closer to the edge of the rink and I follow him.   
  
"Ow! My leg!" I know that voice. That's a Duck. That's Averman!   
  
I pull myself through the door on the side of the ice and into the bleachers. I run up the stairs towards Averman as fast I can, which isn't that fast considering I'm still wearing my skates and pounds of padding. I throw off my gloves as I run, losing them somewhere in the stands.   
  
"Averman!" I think I got his attention. He doesn't look up at me, he's staring down at his leg, but I think he heard me.   
  
Finally, in between all of the 'Ow's I hear my name.   
  
"Julie..."   
  
"What happened? Did you fall? Are you alright?" I'm right near him now, so I try to lower myself down to his eye level. He looks like he's in pain. Big pain.   
  
"Yeah, I was running and I fell and now my leg is..." Averman looks afraid. Really afraid. It's almost as if he's scared for his life. I don't know what I can say that will make him feel better.   
  
I sense a hand on my shoulder, though I can't really feel it through the padding. I turn to see Tim.   
  
"Is there anything I can do?"   
  
Call an ambulance, call Coach, get help, fast.   
  
"Call my coach, Coach Orion, tell him to get here fast!" Tim stares at me blankly, I realize I haven't given him any number to call. I tell him Coach's cell phone number, then number we're not to call except in cases of emergency. I look back down at Averman, this is an emergency.   
  
Tim leaves the rink somehow, I'm not sure what direction he went in, I wasn't really paying attention. Instead, I've been watching Averman, who seems to be in his own little world.   
  
"Aver- Les, it's going to be alright." He looks up at me, surprised. Yes, I called him by his first name. I thought maybe that would, I don't know, help him somehow. "Why were you running around?" It seems like a valid question, but he doesn't answer it right away. "Les?"   
  
"To get away from two AOF guys..." AOF? Avon Old Farms. I know that abbreviation, too. It's taking me too long to process thoughts. I'm worried. Averman looks really hurt. His leg? I hope it's okay. I _hope_ he's okay. "They were going to beat me up, I had to run..."   
  
"I don't see them now..." I look around. Nobody's here but me and Averman.   
  
"They were chasing me!" Averman shakes his head. "They must have bolted after I fell..."   
  
Averman's hurt. Badly.   
  
***   
Charlie's POV   
***   
  
The call came just a few minutes ago. Coach Orion said that he and Averman were leaving the hospital. They're on their way back to the condo now.   
  
The rest of the Ducks, we're sitting in the living room, silently. Julie has told us the story of finding Averman a couple of times already. She said that she found him in rink two, on the bleacher steps, screaming about his leg. At that point, she didn't know that he had broken his ankle. Now we all know. Coach Orion told us about Averman's injury over the phone. He told us that Averman will be in a cast for the next month. It was after we learned that that we, the Ducks, put everything together.   
  
To play in the tournament, the clinic requires that each team has at least eleven players, just enough for two lines and one goalie. We had exactly that when Averman was with us, was playable, and now... Now we know we're not going to be able to participate in the tournament. We're all going to be sent home at the end of the week.   
  
At least, I'm assuming that everyone has figured this out, since no one has verbalized anything about this yet. No one has said anything about anything since the last time Julie told the story, since the last time Coach called. We've all just been sitting here, in silence, waiting.   
  
I'm thinking that everyone else is thinking what I'm thinking, though.   
  
They're all thinking about us leaving, about us not playing in the tournament. I know it.   
  
Portman coughs. He's looking over at Julie. He was trying to get her to say why she was at the rink at the time of the accident before, but now he's stopped. He's quiet with the rest of us.   
  
"Charlie," Guy is nudging me in the side. I'm sitting next to Guy. He's nudging me. I'm not thinking clearly...   
  
"Yeah?" I don't look at him when I speak, I just stay staring forward.   
  
"I have an idea." I turn to face Guy now. I notice other people doing the same. "Something that will keep Averman from going on a guilt trip-" I'm surprised that he said that. I hadn't thought of that. Averman's probably going to blame himself when we all get sent home a week early. "-and keep us all in the tournament." Now everyone is staring at him.   
  
"What is it?" I want to know. I really do.   
  
"Well..." Guy is stalling. "I thought maybe we could, you know, call Banks. Ask him if he can come down for the second week. He could take Averman's place."   
  
Banks isn't here because he had to stay back in Minnesota for his brother's wedding. His brother's wedding, which was, should have been, today. I don't know. I don't know if Adam will come here, but...   
  
Not all the Ducks seem to agree about this idea and there's shouting. Everyone is shouting, trying to say what they want to say, but no one is listening.   
  
"Quiet!" I'm trying to keep the peace. I'm peacekeeper-Charlie. "Quiet everybody!" The room is silent again. The Ducks have learned to pick my voice out of a crowd, and usually they follow my command. I stand, then look back at Guy. "It's possible... If Adam will come, then it's possible..." 


	8. The Phone Call

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
A/N - I want to thank everyone for all of the feedback I've been getting! Really, it's great to know that people are actually reading this!   
Also, I'm really sorry it took, like, more than a week before the first uploading and chapter 6. That was my own fault. I did something stupid (by not reading the FF.net rules and posting the same story twice in different genre sections, something I still think should be allowed, but...) and had my account shut off for a week. Yeah, I'm an idiot, and I'm sorry. Anyway, updates should be a bit more frequent now. Or, they will be as soon as I finish up my finals... Ew, finals...   
  
**Chapter 7 - The Phone Call**   
  
***   
Adam's POV   
***   
  
I'm sitting with my elbows on the kitchen table, my face resting in my hands, my hair falling into my eyes, and a bowl of untouched cereal sitting before me. I know I must look exhausted, which is how I'm feeling right now, even though it's nearly ten in the morning already. Sean's wedding was last night and I didn't get home from the reception until late. It's odd to think that my half-brother's married now, that he's an actual adult.   
  
I guess I was always used to the idea of him being older, what with him being ten years my senior and all, but to see him get married is just strange. My dad seems pretty distraught over it, too. He keeps walking up to me, and, grabbing my shoulders, telling me not to ever get married because that will make him feel _really_ old. I try to tell him that I'm still a freshman in high school and that I don't even have a girlfriend yet, let alone a fiancŽ, so he shouldn't worry. I don't think he's listening.   
  
My mom doesn't seem to be going through all of the age-denial that my dad's suffering from. I guess because Sean isn't really her son she doesn't have to feel old yet.   
  
Adults are weird.   
  
"Adam," my mom says as she steps into the kitchen, still in a silk dressing gown and fuzzy slippers, "Charlie's on the phone."   
  
Charlie? He's in Florida, isn't he?   
  
Oh, I understand, I'm getting the pity call now. The "Oh, we're having _so_ much fun it's so sad that you had to miss this trip!" call. I've been hoping that the Ducks just wouldn't bother contacting me.   
  
Still, I nod to my mom as she hands me the cordless phone.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Banksie?" Charlie says my name as if he'd forgotten me up until a few minutes ago.   
  
"Yeah, what's up? How's Florida?" I'm not sure I want to hear an answer, but I ask anyway. I have to ask, it's the polite thing to do.   
  
I should be in Florida right now. I want to be there. The only reason I didn't go on the trip was because of Sean's wedding and because of some stupid rule that the clinic had. All participants in the clinic must arrive at and stay for the duration of the two week period. I was incapable of doing that, so I was forced to stay home. Why did Sean have to pick this week for his wedding?   
  
"Oh, it's great..." Something is wrong with his tone of voice. It's almost like Charlie's being sarcastic. Sarcastic? About Florida? That's impossible.   
  
"Is something wrong?"   
  
"Well, it's just that..." He's stalling. I can tell that that's his stalling voice.   
  
"Cut to the chase, Charlie."   
  
"Averman broke his ankle and we need you to come down here and take his place."   
  
Of all the things I had been expecting Charlie to say... That came out of nowhere. Averman broke his ankle? And, wait, the Ducks want me to come to Florida?   
  
"I can't come, there's a clinic rule that says-"   
  
"Coach Orion worked it out with Mr. Martin, the head of Laernu. If you can make it, you're allowed to come down at the beginning of next week to play in the tournament."   
  
"Why me?" Why am I asking this? "Why not Dwayne?"   
  
"Well, Guy suggested you and-"   
  
"Guy's word is gold?"   
  
"Banks, are you trying to be a pain about this? I thought you wanted to come to Florida, now here's your chance." He's right, I know he's right. Averman broke his ankle, now here's my chance to go to Florida.   
  
Should I take that chance?   
  
"I have to ask my parents..." That's my stalling voice, and I'm guessing Charlie notices that as I swear I can hear him giving an aggravated sigh on the other end of the line.   
  
I look across the kitchen to where my mom is now making herself a bowl of oatmeal.   
  
"Mom?" I take the phone away from my mouth and put my hand over the speaker. "Can I go to Florida next week?" My mom turns around slowly. She's giving me a skeptical look. "Please?" The look intensifies. "The Ducks need me, and I really want to go..."   
  
***   
Portman's POV   
***   
  
Is it just me, or is Julie spending a lot of time with Warner, the AOF goalie?   
  
I know Gardner keeps making them sit out together while the rest of us run drills, but that doesn't mean they have to talk. And laugh. And smile at each other as if they're old friends.   
  
I guess what's really bothering me is the fact that I have no idea why Julie was here so late last night. I saw Connie and her giggling when I got out of practice yesterday afternoon, so I figure there was some kind of secret behind all of the _girly-ness_. Connie and Julie are not two people who act 'girly' on a regular basis.   
  
Then there's the way Julie conveniently found Averman last night. I'll ask Averman about it all as soon as I get back to the condo this afternoon. I didn't get a chance to talk to him yesterday since he was pretty drugged out when he got home and when I left at the regular (freakishly early) time this morning he wasn't awake yet.   
  
I guess if anyone knows something about Julie's whereabouts last night, it'd be Averman.   
  
"Dean!" Gardner's shouting at me to get my attention. Big surprise there. "I need you to focus on me for once! This is important!"   
  
Yeah, sliding a disk across frozen water, that's what really matters in life. It's not like me to insult hockey, but right now my mind is not settling down.   
  
"Alright Coach Gardner." I have to say that, or else he gets suspicious. Watch out, if I don't give those 'instant responses', someone might actually catch on that I think.   
  
I'm in the middle of a drill, my partner is Bell. Bell is an _ass_. I really don't like him.   
  
"Hey, _Dean_-" he calls me by my first name because he knows I hate it "-why aren't you paying attention? Don't you want to show Coach Gardner some respect?" He shoves past me, his shoulder hitting mine in a less than friendly way.   
  
Yes, show respect by passing the puck with Bell.   
  
I turn my head to look over at Julie. She's not working with Warner now. Instead, Tyson and Frogon are taking shots on her. I'm just glad because she's not working with Warner.   
  
"I'm over here, Eden Boy." I guess 'Eden Boy' is an insult. That's fine since I'm somewhat neutral to the nickname. It really has no effect on me. Still, I change directions to face Bell. "I heard about your teammate, the one who broke his ankle." Bell, if you don't want me to hit you, I think you should stop while you're ahead. "I heard he was running down the stares when he tripped, which I guess means that you Eden Hall brats are about as coordinated off the ice as you are on." He laughs. So, he thinks I'm uncoordinated? Well I'll show him coordination-   
  
Wait.   
  
"How did you hear about Averman?" I don't ask this in a friendly tone. Nothing about what I'm asking is friendly.   
  
Bell doesn't answer. He has the puck again. I had to pass it to him, it's part of the drill. He pushes past me again, but this time I grab on to his shoulder as he goes. He wasn't expecting that. He loses his step and one of his feet slips into the air. A second later, he's lying on the ice.   
  
I smile. At least that's one good thing that happened today. I got to knock Bell down and have it look like an accident.   
  
He sits up and pulls off his helmet. He's not frowning, like I would expect. Instead, he's smiling. In a creepy way. It's more of a smirk, I guess.   
  
"Tim Warner was in the rink when it happened." I know what 'it' he's talking about. He means Averman's fall. "He saw it all, told all of us."   
  
"What was Warner doing on the ice?"   
  
"You mean you don't know?" If anything, the smirk gets worse. How a smirk can get worse I don't know, but I can tell that Bell's did. There's something in his eyes now, a genuine cruelness. I can tell something's coming.   
  
"Know what?" It's what he wants me to ask. "Know what, Bell?"   
  
"Tim was on the ice when the whole thing went down. He was on a date with that little goalie of yours." He nods his head in Julie's direction. I swear I'm about to tear that head from his shoulders.   
  
"Dean, Brendan, get back to work," Gardner scolds as he skates past us.   
  
Bell stands up and takes the puck, but I'm not really paying attention to him.   
  
***   
Guy's POV   
***   
  
It's afternoon and I am so happy to be back from practice. That clinic is tiring.   
  
Actually, I'm back a little early. I promised Coach that I would go check on Averman, so, here I am, back at the condo about a half an hour before practices even end. I really wanted Connie to come with me, but Coach refused to let her out early from practice. He kept saying something about Connie and I learning to spend more time apart, which I thought was funny since we were broken up for the whole beginning half of the year.   
  
For some reason, people didn't seem to notice that.   
  
I'm not one of those guys who worries about being 'Defined by a Relationship', which is good since that seems to be my team identity. Everyone thinks so. I'm one half of the team's 'love birds', Connie's the other, Charlie's the captain, Luis is the male slut, Fulton is the tough one, Portman is the _really_ tough one, Averman is the smart-ass-   
  
Well, actually, right now, Averman is the one with the broken ankle. He's the one who almost screwed it up for the team, not that we'd ever tell him that. Anyway, it's alright now. At lunch Coach made a point of stopping by the Ducks' table to tell us that Adam agreed to come to Florida. He's not allowed to come until next week when the tournament starts, but that's not a problem. We never have to worry about Adam being out of practice. Adam, he's the efficient one.   
  
And Averman is still the one with the broken ankle.   
  
I walk cautiously into the room I share with Averman and Goldberg. I don't want to wake Injured-Sleeping-Beauty if he's not up already. This morning, Goldberg woke Averman to let him know that we were leaving and Averman, who's so hopped up on pain killers that he can't tell the difference between a teammate and a television, just started yelling like mad. I'm not sure exactly what he was yelling about, but it was loud and it was disturbing and I don't think I want to go through that again.   
  
So I'm entering the room quietly.   
  
Averman is sitting up in bed. He's reading a book.   
  
"Hey man, are you feeling any better?" He looks up at me in surprise.   
  
"A little," he shrugs. "You're back early."   
  
"Yeah, I came home to check on you. And to get out of practice." At this, he smiles.   
  
"Practice... That's somewhere I won't be going for the next month." He's taking this pretty well. "That's really fun to say: I don't have to go to practice for a whole month." I know he's trying to put on a happy face. I know it kills him not to be on the ice. Or, at least I assume it kills him. You know, silent pain, we can't see it, it's on the inside of Averman.   
  
"What're you reading?"   
  
Averman looks at the book in his hands, then turns it on its side so that the cover is facing me. He shrugs.   
  
"I don't know. Something to keep me busy."   
  
I have a clear view of the book. It's my Gordon's American History textbook which I packed with me 'just in case I felt like studying'.   
  
Averman is reading a textbook to pass the time.   
  
"Gordon's?"   
  
"Hey, you mock, but did you know that 1887 was not a good year for agriculture?" I shake my head as Averman picks up the book and begins flipping through the pages. "And look, here's a picture diagram of how a bill becomes a law-"   
  
"Averman..." I stop him before he can turn the book to face me. I don't really care how a bill becomes a law. Well, now I do, but that's only because I never really thought about it before. I hate when someone puts something into my mind and then I just can't stop thinking about that thing, no matter how random it is.   
  
I'm off thought-topic.   
  
"Averman..." I repeat.   
  
"Yeah, Guy, I know my name." He puts the book down again.   
  
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"   
  
He doesn't move. He doesn't even say anything, which, you can imagine, is pretty strange for Averman. Now, though, he's silent. Maybe the pain killers haven't worn off yet, maybe he's staring off into space because the pain killer induced little green men are telling him to purple monkey dishwasher. It might be more than that though.   
  
"Averman?"   
  
"Yeah, Guy, I'm fine." He pauses. "I promise, I'm fine." 


	9. Distractions

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others. _Mallrats_ and _Newsies_ are not owned by me, sadly enough.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
A/N - Okay, so I actually planned out what's going to happen in this story. I even wrote the last chapter (no, I'm not getting ahead of myself...) and I'm planning a sequal. Yeah, I know, this story's only about half way done and already I'm planning a sequal... I suck. I'm sorry. *Soy gives thumbs up sign to show that she's a dork*   
  
**Chapter 8 - Distractions**   
  
***   
Charlie's POV   
***   
  
Day four. It's only day four of this clinic and already the Ducks have been turned upside down. On the plus side, Banks gets here in a couple of days... Saturday night to be exact. It'll be good to have him here, maybe he can lighten the mood a little.   
  
Last night when everyone got back, Guy told us that Averman seemed depressed. Since then there's been this cloud hanging over top all of us. Averman, depressed? That doesn't even make sense.   
  
I don't think Averman's the only one who's upset either. Portman's been having major mood swings lately. The weirdest things will set him off and get him yelling about nothing. I guess he feels somehow affected by all of this...   
  
Meanwhile, Julie hasn't even been spending time at home lately. Every minute we're not in practice, she's out on the ice. I think her and Connie know something more about this than they're telling the rest of the Ducks. They look at each other and do this strange 'giggle' thing every time Julie says she's going back to the rink. At least Orion is all excited about this. He seems to think we should all learn from Julie's devotion to practice. I still think something is up.   
  
I'm wandering aimlessly around the condo at the moment. I can't think of anything to do... After that lecture from Orion a couple of nights ago, no one has dared step out the door.   
  
"Hey Charlie." I hear my name coming from the entrance of the kitchen and turn my head to see who's calling me. It's Ken.   
  
"Hey Ken," I nod to him. "Is something up?"   
  
He shakes his head then goes to open the refrigerator door. I walk into the kitchen and sit myself down on the counter.   
  
"No, nothing's up... I was just thinking..."   
  
"About what?"   
  
"Well..." Ken pulls a carton of orange juice from the fridge and shuts the door. Placing the juice on the counter, he walks over to get a glass from the cupboard. "You know how Averman's been feeling sad?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Maybe we could do something to cheer him up. You know, like throw a Duck party or something?" A Duck party? I guess we could probably do something... "It probably wouldn't be smart to have dancing or anything, you know, with the broken-" Ken points to his ankle. It's like he doesn't want to say 'broken ankle' out of superstition. I smile. "-you know. But maybe if we ordered pizza or something. Also, I've heard rumors that there's a TV/VCR in Coach's room-" Really? Orion cheaped us out of a TV? "-maybe we could rent a couple of movies and just have a Ducks fun night. It would probably raise morale all around." So he's noticed everyone's bad moods too. Not that I should be surprised that Ken's noticed everyone's bad moods. He's a pretty perceptive kid. Quiet, but perceptive.   
  
"That's a really good idea." I nod at him as he takes a drink of his juice. "I'll ask Orion if we can move his TV into the living room-"   
  
"And I can get people to make the movie and pizza runs-"   
  
"This is really a great idea Ken-"   
  
"Thanks." He smiles up at me before finishing the rest of his juice. "I just thought we should do something to get everybody out of their funk." Funk? Okay, not the best word choice, but still, smart Ken.   
  
***   
Julie's POV   
***   
  
"Hey, what do you think of _Braveheart_?"   
  
I look down the aisle of the store as Portman holds up a video. I shake my head at him.   
  
"I don't think you want to know what I think of that movie..." I move closer to Portman. Maybe I should start to supervise his choices. He hasn't picked one movie that I like so far.   
  
When Ken told us all about the plan to cheer Averman up it was like something just came over the Ducks. We all smiled. Actually smiled. Okay, so I was still at the rink with Tim when Ken made the actual announcement, but Charlie got me caught up on everything when I got home. And I smiled. Pizza and movies, simple but entertaining.   
  
Portman and I volunteered to go get the videos. It might surprise most people, but Portman is good company. Despite his horrendous taste in movies.   
  
"Oh come on, Julie, you've nixed every single thing I've picked out..." Portman's whining. I can't help but smile.   
  
"Well maybe if you started picking out some movies that I liked I wouldn't nix them..." Oh, speaking of which, there's a movie I like. I bend down and to the bottom level of the shelf and grab a movie.   
  
"What kind of movies do you _like_ then?" Portman sighs as I stand. He grabs the movie from my hands. "_Newsies_? What is this?"   
  
"It's this really great movie about these kids in New York back in 1899. See, they go on strike to protest-"   
  
"They sing?" Damn. He's actually reading the back of the box. Well, maybe he's reading it, or maybe he's just scanning for key words. Words like 'MUSICAL'.   
  
"Yeah, but..." Honestly, my favorite part is the singing. "It's a really great movie, and one of the characters, Mush, looks a lot like you-"   
  
He hands the box back to me.   
  
"Thanks but no thanks. I don't want to watch a musical. And I don't exactly enjoy being told that I look like some geeky singing kid... Especially a geeky singing kid named 'Mush'."   
  
Oh well, it was worth a shot...   
  
Portman puts the movie back on the shelf. Not the shelf where it belongs, but back on a shelf. I hate when people do that. I grab _Newsies_ and bend down to put it in its proper place.   
  
"A little OCD?" Actually, it was more like cognitive dissonance, but I can't expect Portman to know all psych terms.   
  
"No, I just hate when I go looking for a movie and it's not there because someone put it back in the wrong spot." I stare him in the eyes. He's laughing at me.   
  
"Well, how do you know that your movie's not in the right spot? Maybe someone else just took it out..." This is an argument I don't want to waste my time on. "And, anyway, I doubt very many people come in here wanting to rent _Newsies_..."   
  
Okay, I can take attacks against myself, but when he starts insulting my favorite movie I get mad.   
  
I slap Portman on the side. He looks at me, surprised that I would hit him. Okay, maybe it wasn't a smart idea to hit the biggest/toughest guy on the hockey team.   
  
Portman smiles. And hits me back.   
  
"Hey! You're not supposed to hit girls!"   
  
"What, you can hit me but I can't hit you? What kind of stupid rule is that?" He hits me again, gently, on the shoulder. "And I don't hit all girls, just you!"   
  
Well don't I feel special then...   
  
It's kind of nice, though, to be around a guy who isn't afraid of breaking me. Not that Tim is actually scared of that, it just seems like, well, he always goes easy when he takes shots on me. I guess it's because he's not used to playing with a girl, not that that's an excuse since I've been trying to tell him that I'm not as fragile as he thinks. Still, he refuses to take real shots. All the other guys in my clinic group are the same. If this keeps up, I'm going to get out of practice.   
  
At least I always have Portman to fall back on. He's always able to treat me like one of the guys.   
  
"Okay, okay, truce!" I'm laughing. Portman's laughing. It's hard not to laugh when you've kept yourself from laughing for two whole days. I look over at the shelf and spot a movie. "How about this?"   
  
Portman looks at it.   
  
"_Mallrats_?"   
  
"It's good, I promise... And there's no singing in it."   
  
***   
Averman's POV   
***   
  
I have a good idea! Why doesn't somebody break my ankle so that I can't play hockey for a month and then torture me with a Kevin Smith movie? Then I'd be having tons of fun!   
  
Sarcasm sarcasm sarcasm.   
  
I'm tired, actually. I'm really tired. I've been on this odd painkiller hangover for the past day. All I want to do is fall asleep. Unfortunately, the Ducks seem to have other plans.   
  
I guess while I was upstairs asleep, they conned Orion into giving them his TV/VCR. Now they have pizza and videos and are laughing like mad at Ben Affleck being a stuck up shop owner with odd sexual preferences.   
  
Maybe if I was in a better mood I would find this movie funny.   
  
At least I have a spot on the couch. Thanks to my injury, the team is letting me sit on the nice plush couch while I let the coffee table prop up my ankle. Right next to my ankle is the pizza. There are two unfortunate things about having my ankle right next to the pizza. 1) It's pretty hard to reach the pizza when my leg is outstretched right next to it. I mean, we're talking major flexibility issues here. I don't bend that far over, therefore getting a slice of pizza requires asking someone else to hand it to me. That equals germs. 2) Every time the Ducks go to get a slice while their eyes stay fixed on the movie, they end up bumping my ankle. This hurts. A lot.   
  
I'm complaining too much. Even for me I'm complaining too much.   
  
I'm mad. Why did I have to get hurt? Why was I stupid enough to get hurt?   
  
I can't even look where I'm going. I have reached an all time low.   
  
Ow.   
  
"Oh, sorry man, I didn't mean to hit you." Goldie doesn't even look at me as he apologizes.   
  
"I think I'm gonna go to bed now." I wait for some sort of response to come from the Ducks. I get this big group-in-unison groan of 'No, stay awhile longer'.   
  
"Come on, Averman," Charlie looks over at me, "Aren't you having fun?"   
  
No.   
  
"Yeah, but I'm tired." Think up an excuse. "You know, those wacky painkillers and their uber-fun side effects..."   
  
I try to stand, which is really just a joke seeing as me standing while me leg is still on a table is somewhat impossible and all. I fall back down.   
  
"Shit." I can't help it. I'm in pain, I don't want to be here, and I don't want anybody's pity.   
  
I see Connie reach over and hit Pause on the VCR. All the Ducks are staring at me. It's just now that I realize that I feel like crying. Nobody moves, no one says anything. It's silent.   
  
"Is everything alright?" Coach Orion just walked into the room. He's staring at us all in shock. I guess we all got too quiet too fast to avoid suspicion.   
  
"Ye-" Russ begins, but I cut him off.   
  
"No." It feels weird to say out loud. "No, everything is not alright." Everyone is looking at me. Why does everyone have to look at me like that? "I am in pain, I am tired, and I just want to be left alone. I don't want anybody's pity because I know my ankle is _my_ fault. I just want to go to sleep and-" I'm too loud "-I can't even stand up on my own anymore! I'm pathetic!" Okay, if I thought the strange looks I was getting before couldn't get any worse, than I was obviously wrong. "Sorry..."   
  
"Averman, maybe it's time to for you to go to bed." Coach Orion's eyes are scanning over all of the Ducks. If I didn't know that he never found anything funny _ever_, I might think he's amused by this whole scene.   
  
"I'll help you get upstairs," Guy stands from his spot on the floor and walks over to me. It's so sad that I need help from Guy just to stand up.   
  
Leaning on his shoulder, I walk out of the room and then hobble up the stairs. This condo has paper thin walls so I would know if the Ducks were talking again. They aren't.   
  
"Here," Guy helps me so that I'm sitting down on my bed.   
  
"Thanks."   
  
"No problem."   
  
It's very awkward. I think Guy knows that it's awkward. Guy seems to know a lot more than some of the other Ducks give him credit for.   
  
"I'm sorry about my little outburst downstairs-"   
  
"Hey, it's not a big deal-"   
  
"No, it kind of is." I watch Guy. He sits down on his cot. There are only two beds in each room, so cots had to be moved into the rooms for the extra guys. Guy volunteered to take the cot in our room. I think he did that just because he knew Goldie and I both wanted the beds, and that we can be stubborn when we want to be. "I know I'm not a very good hockey player-" Guy opens his mouth to say something, but I motion for him to stop. "I know it, Guy, you don't have to try and contradict me. I never would have made it this far in hockey if it weren't for the fact that I lucked on to District 5 when we were kids. It was all of you other guys who carried us so far. Hell, even Goldberg did more to win us the championship that first year than I did. When we made it into the Junior Goodwill Games, I wasn't even one of the original team members chosen to go-"   
  
"What?"   
  
Yeah, I never told anyone that before. It feels good to finally say it.   
  
"You know how those Hendrix people only wanted eight of us?"   
  
"Yeah." Guy nods.   
  
"Well, I wasn't one of the original eight chosen. I was number nine. When Jesse's brother Terry said he didn't want to go, though... Well, I got the spot." I pause. "I wasn't even good enough for the Ducks then, and that was before I hurt myself."   
  
"Averman, maybe they didn't choose you in the beginning, but that was just because they didn't know how good you can be-"   
  
"And how good is that? Everyone else, you've all improved over the years. Me, I'm still the same-"   
  
"That's not true."   
  
"It is." It is. "Sure, I've gotten bigger and maybe my skating has gotten a little better, but I'd never be able to compete if it weren't for the Ducks. All along, I've known that you guys never really needed me, and now, now you're all going to see that." It's hard to breathe. I feel like I'm choking on my words, even though I know what I'm saying is true. "Once Banks gets here, you're all going to see that you can win the tournament without me. And then..." I don't want to think about what comes next. I really, really don't.   
  
"You're wrong, Averman." Guy stands up. "We need you, just like you need us. So what if you only went to the Junior Goodwill Games by accident, you went, and you played, and you helped us to win. You're a great player now, you've changed since you were ten-"   
  
I shake my head. I don't want to listen to this anymore.   
  
"I don't want to talk anymore. I'm tired." I watch Guy, watch to see what he's going to do.   
  
"Fine," Guy nods. "Fine, I'm just going to go back downstairs then."   
  
I watch him as he starts to leave. When he makes it to the door, he turns around to face me.   
  
"Please don't tell anyone what I told you." I probably should have thought about that before I let my secret out. I should have made Guy promise before I said anything at all.   
  
"Don't worry, you're secret's safe with me." With that, he ducks out of the room, closing the door behind himself.   
  
So I'm the only one in the room now, sitting on my bed. I'm alone. 


	10. Secrets

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
A/N Ð I'm literally out the door and on my way to work right now, but I had to post this first. Thanks again for all the great reviews! I am so happy because none of my stories in all genres have ever gotten this much feedback before! Also, it feels kind of cool to have people like Victory and Star (not to play favorites) leaving comments because I _love_ their queertet stories and yes now I do sound like a geek because I'm mentioning other stories in my author notes. I suck. I hope you like the chapter!   
  
***   
Portman's POV   
***   
  
I'm skating cool down laps right now. I'm trying to think of anything other than the fact that I'm skating cool down laps right now.   
  
This week my clinic group spent just about every morning and sometimes even part of the afternoon on the ice. I've been told by the other groups that this is unusual. Russ says his group has only been given rink time thrice. I'm not sure whether I pity him or I'm jealous... I guess this all has to do with Gardner. He probably bullied the other coaches into giving him their time slots just so that he could torture his own group with laps, sadistic loony that he his.   
  
I turn the corner and set myself up for one more go around the rink. As I skate behind the goal I watch Julie, who's practicing with Gardner. Warner's there too, but I'm not watching him.   
  
I'm thinking maybe I should talk to Julie instead of just turning into creepy 'Watch Her All The Time' guy.   
  
Talk to her about what?   
  
Am I supposed to tell her how I feel about her because even I'm not sure of that... I like her, no doubts there, but the question is, how much do I like her? Plus, I don't know, she's Julie, she and I are friends and I don't feel like ruining that anytime soon.   
  
Gardner blows a whistle.   
  
"Alright group, take a knee!"   
  
Everyone skates over towards the area in front of the goal where Gardner is standing. Slowly, I lower myself down to the ice. I'm tired. I guess I've been skating laps for a long time. I think in the back of my head I know just how long laps lasted, but I'm consciously blocking that out. I just don't want to know.   
  
Julie kneels down next to me. Good, Warner's on the other side of the group.   
  
She takes off her helmet and mouths 'Hi' to me. I wave my glove to let her know that I know what she's saying.   
  
Gardner blows the whistle again. Everyone faces front.   
  
"Today's our last day in this group and I just want to say thank you to you all for really putting in an effort this week. I asked all of the coaches to send me their best and I really think you kids are the cream of the hockey crop." We're the best? I surprised Gardner didn't just stack his clinic with his own team members. Wait, weren't these groups supposed to be randomly assigned? _Somebody's cheating..._   
  
Gardner's still talking. I've stopped listening. Personally, I don't really want to hear his 'goodbye' speech. Blah blah blah I think I'm the bestest coach in the whole wide world and everyone should worship me and love Avon Old Farms above anything else except for me whom they should love supreme blah blah blah.   
  
I look over at Julie. She really seems to be paying attention. She has this look in her eyes, this look that I see on her face in class some times. It's like a combination of wonderment and hidden internal thought. I know in her head she's dissecting everything that Gardner is saying only to use that information again later. She likes doing that.   
  
"So, I guess what I'm trying to say-" Oh, that sounds like a conclusion. Maybe Gardner is finally finishing this up. "-is good luck next week in the tournament. I know all of you will go back to your teams ready to play well and play hard." No one moves, Gardner stares at all of us. "You can go now."   
  
Everyone stands. It's our last afternoon practice. I will never again have to be partnered with Bell in some sort horrible drill type exercise. I will never again have to watch Warner try to flirt with Julie. I am free at last.   
  
I look over towards Julie.   
  
"Ready to go back to the condo?"   
  
She looks over at me and smiles.   
  
"Well, I was going to get changed first-"   
  
"Obviously." As if anyone would want to walk outside in hockey gear in this heat.   
  
"-and I wanted to stick around for a while."   
  
What?   
  
"What? It's the last day, we can go back, relax-"   
  
"I know, but, but I have some stuff I want to do." Julie, don't do this to me... Don't say you want to stay here, here is a very boring place to be... "I want to thank Coach Gardner-"   
  
"For what?"   
  
"For a great week. I think I really learned some things from him-"   
  
"Like what? All you did this week was sit around talking to Warner." I wish I hadn't said that. I look at Julie. It looks like she wishes I hadn't said that too. She's frowning.   
  
"I'm going to go thank Coach Gardner." She turns away from me and starts skating over towards Gardner who's already surrounded by some of the other players. Sheep, all of them.   
  
I turn to skate away. I'm going to the locker room to get changed. Then I'm going to the condo. I don't need any of this.   
  
***   
Guy's POV   
  
***   
  
I enter stealthily through the front door and make my way to the living room without a sound. No one hears me. No one else is back yet at the condo yet, exception of Averman who never left and doesn't notice that I'm home, which is fine since I don't know if I want to face the Ducks today.   
  
Since I had that fun little 'talk' with Averman last night, I'm not quite sure what I'm thinking. He sounded depressed, really depressed. I think I've read about this sort of thing happening when athletes get injured and are forced to stay away from their sport, but then, I never really figured Averman would go through that kind of withdrawal. I guess I never really thought of Averman as an athlete. The problem with this is he doesn't seem to think of himself as one either.   
  
I know he's wrong. I know Averman has to be wrong just because he can't be right. He's a big part of the Ducks and not just because he has the amazing ability to shoot off sarcastic remarks like there's no tomorrow. He's part of the family. Averman, he's the team smart-ass, but he's a good player too.   
  
When Banks went over to varsity, Averman really got a chance to play. Back in the old days, both Adam and Jesse were also there to play center, making Averman always left on the bench, but at the beginning of the year... Averman was the only one. He did well with the position too. I don't think he sees it now looking back, but he played really well.   
  
That's something like mood-congruent memory or something... He just looks back on himself as a bad player because he can't play now. At least I think that's what's going on.   
  
I flop down on the couch, dropping my hockey bag onto the floor. Pretty soon everyone else will get home. When they do, I won't have to worry about being quiet, because then I won't be the only one in the house with Averman. I won't have to worry about accidentally striking up another conversation with him. I think that yesterday night's conversation revealed more inner demons than I would ever like to face.   
  
I hear the front door open. I'm not sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. On the plus side, no more being quiet; on the bad side, someone might try to ask me questions about our Wounded Duck.   
  
Connie steps into the room. She's smiling.   
  
"Hi Guy, I didn't know you'd be home." She comes and takes a seat next to me.   
  
"Hey Connie." I don't know what else to say. I feel like the whole world is sitting on my shoulders. Everyone is trying to pressure me into telling Averman's secrets...   
  
I hope I don't crack.   
  
"So, today was the last practice." I can't look at Connie while she speaks. If I do, I might say something that I really shouldn't say. "Orion went crazy on the drills." Don't look at Connie... Don't crack... "But at least it's over." Don't say anything, no matter how she tries to trap you using her feminine charms... "Tomorrow we get to start practicing with the Ducks again." Ha ha Connie, I'm stronger than you think! I'm not going to say anything! "So, how was your practice today?"   
  
"Avermantoldmethathedoesn'tthinkheshouldbeaDuck!" I turn my head to look at Connie who is staring blankly back at me. "I wasn't supposed to say anything, but then you forced me to talk and now you know-"   
  
"Know what? I couldn't understand what you said..." Connie squints her eyes as if she's examining me. She looks how she did that time in biology right before she dissected that frog. "Wait, what do you mean I was _forcing_ you to talk?" Uh oh, that's Angry Connie Voice.   
  
Wait, Connie she wasn't just making with the pleasantries in order to trick me into spilling my secrets?   
  
Oops.   
  
I hear the front door open again. A moment later, Portman stomps into the room.   
  
"Life sucks." He falls into the wicker chair and puts his feet up on the footstool.   
  
Good, a distraction, now I can make my get away.   
  
"I'm just going to be in the kitchen if anyone needs me." I stand up quickly and walk into the kitchen. As I exit I can feel Connie's eyes on me and soon after I hear Portman ask if something was wrong.   
  
No. Nothing's wrong.   
  
Should I tell someone?   
  
No. Averman really wouldn't like that.   
  
Unless he would. Maybe him telling me not to tell was a silent cry for help. Yeah, maybe...   
  
No.   
  
Maybe?   
  
No.   
  
I would hate it if I made someone promise not to say something and then that person went against the promise. I would _really_ hate that.   
  
Unless of course I wanted that person to tell my secret. But then why would I have made them promise not to tell it? But then why would I have told the person in the first place?   
  
I was not the right person for Averman to talk to. All I am is confused.   
  
***   
Charlie's POV   
***   
  
Adam gets here tomorrow.   
  
He's going to have to sleep on the couch while he's here. I didn't tell him that over the phone and I doubt it occurred to Coach Orion to tell him either. There's some rule passed by the Fire Marshal or some other prestigious preventative job like that that says only three people are allowed to sleep in one room. Otherwise there might be chaos. You know, if there's ever a fire and all four people decide to head for the door at once, or if say the fourth cot is in front of the door and the room's occupants have not quite mastered the art of 'stepping over'. It's a dumb rule. Adam's going to have to stay on the couch.   
  
I wish heÕd be allowed to stay in my room, though. Right now, I'm cooped up with Fulton and Portman. I gave them the beds without even putting up a fight. I wouldn't want to provoke a couple of people known as the "Bash Brothers" into an argument. It just seems kind of stupid. So now, I'm stuck on the cot.   
  
It's not as bad as I thought it would be, not the cot (that's still bad for my back), but the rooming situation. Fulton and Portman are my friends, and it's fun spending time with them. It would be better, of course, if Portman weren't always moping around. He's been doing a lot of moping lately. I asked Fulton if he knew what Portman's upset about and he said that he thinks he has an idea, he just doesn't want to say anything until he confirms his suspicions. He didn't use those exact words, but I could tell that that was what he meant.   
  
Right now, Fulton is in our room talking to Portman, who came home spurting a new 'Life Sucks and Then You Die' philosophy this afternoon. In order to avoid them, I'm in the kitchen, pretending that I'm hungry. At first I came in here to talk to Guy, but he ran out of the room as soon as I entered it, so now I'm just trying to look busy.   
  
I open up the fridge.   
  
These Laernu people do keep it pretty well stocked. Not that I cook.   
  
"Hey Charlie."   
  
I turn around to see who spoke to me. It's Connie.   
  
"Hey Connie, how was your day?"   
  
"Okay..." She walks over to the table, pulls out a chair and sits down. "Does Guy seem strange to you?"   
  
I smile. Yeah, he always has... That's why he's my friend.   
  
"No more than usual..." I pause, that's not exactly true. "Except a few minutes ago when he bolted out of here for no reason. All I said was 'Hi' and he just took off."   
  
"He did something similar with me." Connie looks down at the floor. "I think he's hiding something."   
  
Uh oh, it seems like I have ventured into dangerous territory. I am now in the land of Connie and Guy's relationship troubles... I'm not sure from Connie's tone of voice whether she wants a 'This Will Work Out' talk or a 'He's Just Male Scum' talk. Seeing as I'm male, though, and I don't quite feel like dragging my gender through the mud at the moment, I choose option one.   
  
"I'm sure he's not cheating on you. You guys make a great couple-"   
  
"Cheating on me?" Uh oh. Wrong talk. "Guy is cheating on me?"   
  
"No, I was just trying to calm your fears." Pause. "You weren't afraid of that, were you?"   
  
"Not until now..." Connie sighs. "No, I was talking about Guy's talk with Averman last night. I think Averman might have said something to him, because now Guy's walking around like he knows a secret. Of course, that secret could have nothing to do with Averman. It could be that Guy's _cheating on me_-"   
  
"I'm sorry! I didn't know that you were talking about Averman!"   
  
"It's alright..." Connie smiles. Hopefully that's a forgiving smile. "I know you didn't mean to hint at anything real." Pause. "Maybe to make it up to me, though-" Make what up? The fact that I made a mistake? "-you'll talk with Guy, find out what's bothering him."   
  
Sneaky, sneaky Connie.   
  
"Fine. I'll talk to him."   
  
"Great!"   
  
"But I don't know how much he'll tell me." I really don't. "I'm sure he would tell you much more..."   
  
"Maybe, but you should talk to him first. Break the ice a little, then I'll give it a try."   
  
I sigh. Girls have this way of getting me to do whatever they want. I feel like Connie manipulated me, which she did. Oh well. It's not a bad manipulation. All I have to do is talk to Guy, and I do that all the time. No, this shouldn't be hard at all.   
  
Right? 


	11. Infiltration

  
Author - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others. Toys R' Us is not owned by me, nor is Saved By The Bell or the game Twister. I own nothing.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
A/N - Sorry this took so long to get out, but I've had a lot of school work to do lately. Speaking of which...   
Has anyone reading this ever read _Harry Potter_? Do you have a favorite character? If so, then please participate in a really quick quiz so that I can gather some info for a psych experiment! If you want to help or know more, just go to http://still-awake.com/hppsych!   
Alright, cheesy ad I know, but I really need the help/data.   
Thanks for all of the reviews! I live for feedback, I check my reviews to see if I got any new ones every time I'm near a computer. No, I'm not crazy. *reviews are my life force...*   
  
***   
Adam's POV   
***   
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. As we approach our final destination I would like to ask all of you to please buckle your seat belts and enjoy and the remainder of the flight. Again I would like to thank you for flying Delta. Have a nice day."   
  
I love how captains on planes always sound the same. It's like television voice overs all sound like they're done by the same guy, all planes always sound like they're being flown by the same pilot. I sit back in my chair. My seat belt's been buckled since takeoff. I've been prepared for landing since then...   
  
I'm not sitting next to the window. Instead, I'm sitting in the middle of a three seat section. The person to the right of me is by the window. She's been asleep with the shade drawn the whole time, though, so it seems like a waste for her to have that seat. If I was sitting in the window seat, I would be looking at the ground right now, getting my first peek of Florida. I've never been to Florida before, this is going to be exciting. I would love it if I could look out the window right now and see how close to landing this plane actually is...   
  
The man on my left shifts in his seat and hits me in the side in the process. I'm used to that by now. It's been hours on this plane and that man keeps hitting me in the side. Not once has he apologized for it either.   
  
I face forward. I notice that I'm rocking back and forth, it's a nervous habit. When I was little and scared of something, I would rock back and forth just to take my mind off the problem. Somewhere along the line, the rocking expanded so that I would do it when excited or anxious. Right now, I really want to see the Ducks again. I think that's why I'm rocking.   
  
The person behind me kicks my seat. Okay, I'll stop rocking now.   
  
When I lean forward, I can see out the window of the row in front of me. We are close now. Very close. I can see the runway and I clench my jaw as we touch down upon it. I'm here. This is Florida.   
  
The plane makes the loud sounds it always makes when landing. It always sounds as if planes are about to break the sound barrier. I know that they're not, but I just keep expecting the sonic boom. It doesn't come. Instead, the plane slows and starts crawling to the gate.   
  
I unbuckle my seat belt, despite the warning from the flight attendants. I'm living on the edge, I suppose. I'm going to unbuckle my seat belt _before_ we've come to a complete stop.   
  
As soon as we reach the gate the entire plane stands in unison, everyone fighting to be the first one off the plane. Well, most people do this. Not the man to my left. Apparently, he doesn't mind making me _wait_. I really want to shove past him and get into the airport where I know my friends are waiting for me, but I don't. Instead, I wait patiently for him to move and grab my backpack up from under the seat in front of me.   
  
Throwing my bag on my shoulders I stand behind the man, not leaning on him or forcing him to move forward. I figure if I try to force him to move it will only take longer.   
  
Finally, he does go, and I follow him. A swear a snail could pass me as I wait in the forever long line to get off the plane. Well, a snail could pass me if there weren't so many people around to step on it. No one cares what they're stepping on, already two people have stepped on my foot trying to cut in front of me and push their ways out of their rows.   
  
I reach the end of the plane.   
  
"Thank you for flying Delta," a flight attendant waves at me, "Have a nice day."   
  
I will have a nice day, thank you.   
  
I start to run up that retractable hallway which connects the plane to the gate. As I enter out into the airport I can see my friends. I can see the Ducks, standing there waiting for me.   
  
Or, I can see some of the Ducks.   
  
I do a quick mental count. Averman, Goldberg, and Julie are missing. Portman is frowning. Connie is looking over at Guy with an angry expression on her face while Guy himself looks like he's about to explode. Luis is across the gate talking to a skinny blond girl. Russ, Ken, Charlie, and Fulton look like the only ones who are happy to see me. Oh well, I can deal with that.   
  
"Hi guys, you miss me?"   
  
"Of course not, cake eater," Russ punches me jokingly in the arm.   
  
The rest of the Ducks come over now and, for at least a moment, they crowd around me as if they're glad that I'm here.   
  
"Alright, alright," I can hear Coach Orion's voice. "Come on, kids, we have the ice in seven hours so let's get back to the condo and get Adam unpacked before heading over to the rink." Of course it would be Coach who would think ahead like that. Forget jetlag and a time zone switch, it's time to practice!   
  
We all start to walk in a mob towards the baggage claim. Charlie walks up next to me.   
  
"Was your flight okay?"   
  
"Yeah, it was fine." It was, I don't have very much to say about it.   
  
"I'm glad you're here, Adam." He looks very serious in this moment. Charlie Conway, serious, I know it's hard to believe. Right now, though...   
  
He told me over the phone last night when he called to confirm my arrival time that the Ducks have been in bad spirits lately. He can't figure out why, but he's hoping that I'll be able to change the mood. I told him that that was a lot to hope for.   
  
"I'm glad to be here," I am. Very glad. If anyone had told me a week ago that I would be in Florida today, I would have laughed at them. I would have told them that that would go against Laernu clinic rules. "Very glad."   
  
As I step onto the moving walkway I look to my left. Among all the ads for airlines, travel destinations, and Disneyworld, there is a space of white poster with only three words on it. 'Florida Welcomes You'.   
  
***   
Julie's POV   
***   
  
I know that Adam comes in this morning, and that I really should be there to welcome him, but this might be my last time to practice with Tim before the tournament.   
  
"Julie." Tim doesn't give me any time to think. He's always interrupting me. He doesn't know that he's interrupting me since he's only interrupting my head-talking, but still. Maybe I'm cranky today. "Julie?"   
  
"Yeah?" I take my helmet off as I skate out of the goal.   
  
Tim's been taking shots on me for the past half hour or so. He doesn't take real shots on me. He holds back, I can feel it. Sure, I know he's a goalie so he's not exactly used to playing offense, but I would expect him to be slightly more aggressive. I told him that days ago and he just laughed at me and told me I was imagining things. According to him, he is putting his best effort into it.   
  
Despite Tim's going easy on me, I'm breathing hard. I stop skating just in front of him and he pulls off his helmet.   
  
"Do you want to switch now?"   
  
Yeah, it's about time we did switch. I can't hog all of the goal time.   
  
Maybe practicing would be more efficient if I did it with someone other than a goalie. I've been tempted to invite Portman along to these secret sessions, but I don't think that would be a very comfortable situation. As usual, all of the Ducks have stereotyped the AOF players into being the enemy. I've noticed Portman can hardly stand to work with Bell under the watchful eye of Coach Gardner. Without an adult to supervise his interaction with Avon Old Farms, I'm afraid Portman would just go on a rampage. I can picture it now, Tim making some comment as to how _Dean_ could improve his slap shot and Portman would just take offense and punch him out.   
  
I nod to Tim and watch him skate into the goal.   
  
It's hard to skate in all of this padding. Other players don't seem to notice this, but goalies have to deal with a lot. When skating laps, Coach Orion always lets me do a few less than everybody else, but it takes me just as long to finish. It's not that the added weight of the pads makes it hard to skate, it's the actual padding which makes it difficult to control myself. I feel awkward as I skate up to the goal, the puck sliding across the ice in front of me.   
  
I wonder if Adam's flight has gotten in yet...   
  
There are no clocks in here, but I'm guessing that it's late morning, maybe even early afternoon. Adam's plane probably got in hours ago. I really should be there to welcome him.   
  
I'm right in front of the goal. There's no way I'm going to get the puck in this close to the goal, I'm just not that good, but I shoot anyway, glove side. Tim blocks it easily, just deflecting the puck so that it bounces back onto the ice in front of me.   
  
"Come on Julie," Tim uses his whining voice, "Give me something I have to work for."   
  
"I don't see why you're allowed to hold back and I'm not..." Tim doesn't hear my under-the-breath complaint. I'm glad. I don't want to come off as immature.   
  
I sigh and take the puck back out to the center of the ice. I'm really going to try this time.   
  
"Julie?"   
  
Or I would try if I hadn't just been distracted.   
  
I look up into the stands, by the nearest entrance. Charlie and Adam are standing in the doorway, looking down at me.   
  
I pull my helmet off and skate quickly to the edge of the ice while Charlie and Adam run down the bleacher stairs towards me.   
  
"Adam! How was your flight?"   
  
He doesn't answer me. Instead, I watch as his eyes turn to the ice, to the goal. Tim is here. I'd forgotten in all of four seconds. I turn my head to look at Tim. He's skating out of the goal, over towards me. Turning back, I see that Charlie is also watching Tim as he comes over. It's obvious that Charlie is staring at Tim's jersey which reads Avon Old Farms in navy blue letters right across the front. Avon Old Farms. Ducks. Here comes the rivalry...   
  
"Hi," Tim takes off his helmet and nods at my teammates. It's very casual. Of course it's casual, Tim isn't usually formal...   
  
"Hi," Adam looks like he doesn't know what's going on. In all honesty he really doesn't know. He just got here a few hours ago, I doubt anyone has filled him in on who our new Enemies Of The Month are.   
  
"I'm Charlie Conway," Charlie holds out his hand to Tim. "I'm captain of the Ducks, Julie's team."   
  
"I know," Tim holds one of his gloved hands out to Charlie, but then retracts it. "Julie's told me about you."   
  
"She hasn't told me about you." Charlie, don't start anything. Don't turn all Macho Captain on me now... "I would think-"   
  
"So..." I cut him off before he can say anything else.   
  
"So..." Adam echoes. He still doesn't know what's happening.   
  
"So..." Charlie has his stern face on. "You play for Avon Old Farms-"   
  
"I've heard of them." Adam, this is not the time to interrupt. "They're really good." He looks at Tim. "You must be a pretty good player."   
  
I want to do what television characters do in times of people saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. I want to slap my hand across my forehead and give an exasperated sigh, while the studio laugh track plays. I'm listening for the laugh track.   
  
It doesn't come.   
  
"I think I should go..." So Tim is going to be the bigger person.   
  
"I think-" Charlie no! "-you should-"   
  
"I'll see you on Monday then!" Phew, I've successfully cut Charlie off. I have saved the day.   
  
Tim's giving me a look to say that he knows what Charlie was going to tell him. He frowns.   
  
"Yeah, on Monday," Tim starts to skate away, in the direction of the locker room that he always uses, "At the tournament."   
  
He's gone. Charlie looks at me. Adam looks confused.   
  
"At the tournament..." Charlie repeats, scowling. "At the tournament..."   
  
***   
Averman's POV   
***   
  
I don't wanna grow up, 'cause baby if I did, I wouldn't be a Toys R' Us kid. Yeah!   
  
Excessive amounts of boredom and self loathing can't be good for the brain. I think I've regressed. All day I've been singing commercial jingles and TV show theme songs from my youth to myself. Freud would probably have a lot to say about me, but, thankfully, Freud's dead. Now I don't have to listen to his insults- I mean, opinions.   
  
I'm sitting in the living room, on the couch, my leg propped up on the table. The electric fan has been moved to rest upon the footstool and is currently shooting gusts of wind at my face. I would turn the intensity level of the fan down from hurricane to, say, gentle breeze, if I were able to reach it. I'm not, surprise surprise. No, instead, I've been sitting here, suffering from the wrath of the fan with only Guy's history book for protection, staring out the window at the beach. Ah, pretty beach.   
  
All the Ducks are out there, swimming, tanning, picking up girls. Well, technically that's a lie. Charlie took Adam to see the hockey facilities a while ago and Julie hasn't been seen all day to my knowledge. She went somewhere I assume. I mean, she probably didn't just cease to exist, it's just that nobody told me where she went off to. No one tells me much of anything. This cast on my ankle has not only driven me off the team, but it's also put me out of the loop.   
  
I'm sitting in the living room alone. In Florida.   
  
Hey, Lester Averman, what was the best thing you did in Florida? -- Well, there were those fascinating hours I spent in my room counting ceiling tiles, and then there was that time when I fell down the bleachers and broke my ankle, but, oh, nothing can top that day when I sat on the couch and was assaulted by an electric fan!   
  
Coach says I'm lucky, that the clinic could have sent me home early if the Ducks hadn't fought for me to stay. Really, I know that my staying had nothing to do with what the Ducks fought for. I stayed because my parents are visiting my aunt in Pacoima right now and won't be there to collect me from the airport should I fly back to Minnesota.   
  
When the teacher pops a test, I know I'm in a mess, and my dog ate all my homework last night. Ridin' low in my chair, so she won't know that I'm there. If I can hand it in tomorrow it will be alright. It's alright, 'cause I'm Saved By The Bell...   
  
I'm an off topic kind of kid.   
  
The beach entrance glass door to the living room slides open and Portman walks in. I hadn't even seen him coming. You know you're distracted when you don't see a huge guy like Portman coming...   
  
"Were you talking to yourself?" He shuts the door and looks over at me.   
  
What? Huh? No.   
  
"Oh, maybe... I was singing the theme song to Saved By The Bell." I pause. "I thought I was singing it in my head though..."   
  
"Saved by the what?" Portman doesn't wait for my response. He walks straight into the kitchen.   
  
Now I'm alone again with just the fan to keep me company. Oh! I forgot the fan!   
  
When Portman comes out of the kitchen I have to remember to ask him to turn down the fan for me.   
  
When he comes out of the kitchen...   
  
Come on, Portman, any time now...   
  
I hear the front door open.   
  
"-you don't know what you're talking about!"   
  
"But-"   
  
"Tim's not like that, I don't care what you might think!"   
  
Julie storms into the room, followed closely by Charlie. Adam walks behind them, a look of boredom on his face.   
  
"They're all like that-"   
  
"Who's like what? What are you talking about?" I look from Charlie to Julie to Adam. Adam shrugs at me.   
  
"I have no idea what's going on." He speaks in a monotone voice. Ah, the mark of someone who is truly annoyed.   
  
"Julie's been sharing all of our secrets with the AOF players!" Charlie is loud. Loud enough to gain Portman's interest as the enforcer walks out of the kitchen holding a glass of water.   
  
"What's going on?" He looks over at me, then at Adam. Both of us shrug.   
  
"Julie's in cahoots with one of the Avon Old Farm players," Charlie ignores Julie's attempts to interrupt him and she doesn't say more than a syllable. "She's been 'practicing with him' she says, but we all know that that means she's really telling him all of our strengths, all of our weaknesses, all of our-"   
  
"No!" Julie interrupts. "It means that I was practicing with him! Just because Tim plays for-"   
  
Portman's glass falls and hits the thin carpet. It seems like it's moving in slow motion as the glass explodes and grinds itself deep into the floor. Remind me never to walk in here without shoes on. Oh, that's right, I'm not really very good with the walking in general...   
  
Something serious has happened. I can tell. I don't know for sure, but just looking at Portman's face and the broken glass and Charlie and Julie and, well, not Adam, he just looks kind of oblivious, but everything else in the room looks like something big, something huge is going down.   
  
There's a party going down, Twister, the hot spot. Twister, the hot spot.   
  
Damn commercial jingles infiltrating my mind. 


	12. Charge

Title - Coulda Woulda Shoulda   
Author name - Soy   
Author e-mail - soywon@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer - All of the Ducks are owned by Disney. Most of the schools and players I use in this are real and are owned by themselves. Big shout out to Avon Old Farms for unknowingly lending me not only their name but also their captain, coach, and a few random others.   
Feedback - Is very much appreciated!   
A/N - I'm sorry this took so long. There won't be such long breaks between the rest of the chapters, I promise!   
  
**Chapter 11 - Charge**   
  
***   
Guy's POV   
***   
  
"Welcome to the Laernu Youth Hockey Tournament! Enjoy your time here and good luck to all of our wonderful teams!"   
  
The P.A. system at the main stadium seems to be playing welcoming messages on repeat. I look around at my fellow Ducks, very few of them look their enjoying their time. In all honesty, I can understand that.   
  
I guess Julie started the current division between team members, but I can't be outwardly angry at her because then Connie would be upset with me. Last night, after Portman freaked out, Connie locked herself in her room with Julie. Since then, Cat Lady's been speaking through Connie. I don't think this is so much Julie being afraid to talk to everyone as it Connie wanting to take control of the situation and protect her friend.   
  
Connie's so caring.   
  
And controlling, but oh well.   
  
"Are you kids planning to just stand here all day?" Orion has this way of coming up behind a person all secretive-like. In this case, he snuck up on the team, and I notice we all look surprised to see him. I think he notices something's wrong. "Come on, we have to be at the tournament orientation in ten minutes, then we'll only have two hours before our first game. There's no time for dawdling today."   
  
Dawdle dawdle. That's a strange word. I think Orion can sense that there's some strangeness between the players today. If not, then he certainly noticed the shards of broken glass in the living room carpet and must be wondering how they got there.   
  
We start moving, all of us together, as if we are a team not torn apart.   
  
I'm kind of confused as to why we are torn apart. It has something to do with Julie hanging around with the goalie of the AOF team. Charlie said she was telling him our plays. Connie told me that that's not true, and I've come to believe whatever Connie tells me.   
  
As we walk through the doors that will lead us into the rink where the "opening ceremonies" are to be held, I notice that our "great divide" is physically beginning. Charlie, Portman, Fulton, Goldberg, Banks, and Luis walk through the door on the left. The rest of us go through the door on the right. When we take our seats at the top of the stacks of bleachers, we stay separated by rows.   
  
I don't like where this is going.   
  
All of the other teams from all of the other schools are here, and most of them look excited, and for a second I wonder why. Yeah, the tournament starts today. It's easy to forget things like that when one teammate becomes the Depressing Wonder and another turns suspected treasonist.   
  
I remember when hockey was just about showing up and playing, back when your teammates were all on the same side.   
  
Of course, that was before the Ducks skated in a real rink.   
  
"Everyone," Mr. Martin, the clinic director, has made his way out onto the ice in front of us. He's wearing a suit. Every time I see him, he's wearing a suit. It looks kind of stupid. "Everyone, if I may have your attention please." The room becomes silent, the teams face forward. "I had a wonderful first week, and from what I've heard from the coaches, it sounds like all of you have enjoyed your time as well. I just hope that you all learned some valuable skills and, more importantly, made some lasting friendships." What does this have to do with the tournament starting today? "But now the fun part of the clinic is about to begin. This morning we will begin our tournament, and I cannot wait to see all the excitement. I wish you all the best of luck!" Double loss equals elimination, winner take all. Ducks do well in these kinds of tournament situations. Who needs luck?   
  
Then again, usually when we're doing well, we're not in a big fight.   
  
Did I just see Portman glaring at Julie?   
  
I don't like where this is going.   
  
Mr. Martin finishes up his talk. People clap. The Ducks don't, we're all too preoccupied. I think I saw Banks go to clap, but Charlie elbowed him in the side as if to remind him that we are all upset, and therefore cannot congratulate anyone on a speech well spoken.   
  
A coach I don't know and don't care to know gets up and gives us all our "official charge". According to him, now we should all be energized and ready for battle.   
  
I look at Connie who's sitting to my right and flash her a smile. She smiles nervously back at me.   
  
It's gonna be okay. I'm sure of it.   
  
***   
Portman's POV   
***   
  
"And Eden Hall's #21, Dean Portman, gets slammed by Westminster Academy's #34, George Heartland. Oh, that's gotta hurt."   
  
Stupid commentators.   
  
The puck is way past me now, and the player who's got it is centering it. I'm trying not to skate too close to our goal, which may sound like a dumb strategy, but really it's all that's keeping me from going ballistic. Today I don't really like having 'protect Julie' as my soul job on the ice. So I've given up. Sorry Ducks if I'm letting you down, but I don't feel much like playing today.   
  
We're nearing the end of the third period and we're down by one. Looking back, I probably could have stopped that one. Some punk had had the puck and had taken it right by me. I had seen Julie looking to me - or, alright, in my direction since it's kind of hard to tell where someone with one of those massive masks on is actually looking - for help, but I didn't stop the guy. I should have checked him. I should have, and I would have if it hadn't been for Julie looking at me.   
  
Why was she with Warner?   
  
Charlie's going around saying that he caught Julie giving out our plays, telling Warner our secrets, but I know Julie wouldn't do that. She just wouldn't because, well, she's Julie. She might have been practicing with him, might even have been dating him, but she would never do anything to hurt the Ducks. She told me she thinks of us as her family. She wouldn't hurt her family.   
  
Now I get it.   
  
I'm not mad at Julie, I'm jealous of Warner. I'm jealous because she wants to spend her time with him instead of with me. I'm a sap, a stupid sap.   
  
I take off down the ice. I've got to stop 34 from scoring.   
  
How could I have been so dumb? Where did I get off being that mad?   
  
I'm close to 34 now, right on his tail, but before I can reach him he pushes the puck off to his teammate. Fulton is supposed to be marking that guy, but I charge after the puck anyway. I've got to keep them from scoring again.   
  
Charlie always does this. He always thinks that someone's out to get him, and then really sticks with it. He can hold grudges like no other.   
  
I slam the teammate, the puck slides across the ice. For a second it sits, unclaimed, in front of the goal. Fulton swoops by and collects it, takes it to the side, and passes it off to Guy, who passes it to Ken who gives it right back, completing a smooth give and go.   
  
Why did Julie have to be Charlie's target this time? That doesn't seem fair. Just because Julie can trust people outside of the Ducks doesn't mean she should be picked on by the team. Okay, so her choice in confidant could have been better than that skeezy AOF 'Could I Be Any Faker?' goalie, but Julie doesn't deserve to be punished.   
  
Guy and Banks, with Ken behind them, are making their way down the ice, though neither pays attention to the other. There are a couple of times where I think Guy wants to get rid of the puck, but Ken's blocked and Banks is the only open man. He doesn't pass it. I guess Connie told Guy to be mad at Banks.   
  
After a minor check Guy skates on without the puck. That wasn't a drop pass, I can tell. It was unintentional, and now Banks is rushing to the puck. He picks it up, gloating as he goes, his chest all puffed up like the cake eater that he is. We could have lost the puck there, and he's showing off how much better he is than Guy! This doesn't make sense...   
  
Fulton skates up beside me.   
  
"What was that?" He's screaming over the crowd and the commentators, not looking at me as he skates.   
  
"What?" I don't look at him.   
  
"That was my man."   
  
"I know, but I had to get him."   
  
Fulton doesn't answer. Instead he skates to the other side of the rink.   
  
I had to get that guy, I had to stop him from getting near Julie. I had to make up for all the crap I've been giving her.   
  
This morning, when we were eating breakfast back at the condo, she asked me if I was alright. I hadn't heard her speak since last night, and I don't think any of the other Ducks, exception of Julie's new mouth Connie, have heard her since. She wanted to know if I was okay, because she was worried when I dropped that glass. I shrugged her off, bastard that I am. Why am I so annoying sometimes?   
  
I told her to go away.   
  
I skate back towards Julie. I can hear Orion yelling, asking me 'what the hell' I'm doing.   
  
"Julie!"   
  
"Portman! Get down there, they need you!" I think she's looking me in the eyes. I can't tell. I'm still a good five feet away from the goal.   
  
"I'm sorry for being such a jerk-"   
  
"Now really isn't the time to be talk-"   
  
"No, I have to say it. I'm sorry."   
  
There's a pause. I want to say more, but I can't. I literally can't. The goal buzzer is going off and I can't speak over its sound.   
  
Well, at least we're tied now.   
  
I watch as Banks proudly returns to his starting position, all huffed up about his goal. I'm surprised when Guy doesn't congratulate him. Oh, that's right, their on opposite sides in this whole stupid fight.   
  
Stupid Charlie. I'm going to have a talk with him after the game. I'm going to tell him how he needs to knock it off and just forgive Julie, even apologize to her, because she didn't do anything wrong.   
  
Yeah, that's what I'm going to do.   
  
"Portman!" Orion. Yelling. "Get off the ice! We're changing it up!"   
  
I didn't take directions, now I'm being pulled from the game. Why does this happen so often?   
  
I skate off the ice and watch as Goldberg takes my place. There's only a few minutes left. We have to score again.   
  
Orion hits me upside the head. Not playfully.   
  
"What were you doing out there? I said I'd give you a second chance-" after I blew the first by not stopping that goal "-if you promised to play hard!" I know he only put me back in because Goldberg was getting tired earlier. Those salads he's been eating haven't been fueling him right. "Now you're down on the opposite end of the ice making pleasant chitchat with our goalie?!" Well, I'm not actually doing that _now_. "Anything could have happened without you there to back up Banks and Germaine-" yeah, like the world could have imploded and it would have been all my fault "-you're just lucky that they scored! And what have I told you about luck? You can't rely on it!"   
  
I don't remember him ever telling me that.   
  
I'm really hoping Orion will go be the mosquito in someone else's ear now. I don't need a lecture. Yeah, I did something wrong. Wow.   
  
I look down the bench to where Charlie is sitting. His eyes are focused on the ice, I know he's planning secret strategies in his head, I can tell by the way he isn't responding to anything around him. Not even to Averman, who, dressed in regular clothes, sits next to him making snarky comments I can hear from here, is able to distract our 'fearless captain'.   
  
Banks scores again. Charlie looks relieved.   
  
Grudge holder.   
  
I'll show him to bad talk Julie.   
  
Okay, now I get it. Conway: bad. Julie: good.   
  
***   
Charlie's POV   
***   
  
"We almost lost today! Where were your heads?" Coach Orion looks around at all of us, the Ducks, his eyes not focussing on anyone particular. We're sitting in the locker room, the game thankfully over. "I didn't see one of you - not one of you! - playing with the concentration needed to succeed!"   
  
I sigh.   
  
I don't know about everyone else, but I tried my hardest today. I can't help it that some people weren't focusing on the game.   
  
What exactly was Portman up to out there?   
  
"I can tell there's something tearing you kids apart and-"   
  
"Coach," I begin. He holds up his hand to stop me.   
  
"Not now Conway." He doesn't even look at me. "I don't care what the situation between you is. You're going to fix it, you're going to make amends, and you're all going to play your hardest, _like a team_, at tomorrow's game. No excuses." He stops, and turns in his place until he's been full circle. He stops, facing me. "I want you all to work out whatever is wrong, or I want you to pack up and go home, because a team that doesn't play together doesn't deserve to be here."   
  
Harsh blow.   
  
He finishes like that, too, not saying another word. Coach Orion exits the room, the sound of his shoes as they hit the floor echoing in my ears. I look across me, to where Portman sits. I'm pretty sure he's growling at me.   
  
"Portman," I say. "Portman-"   
  
"What?" Angry, scary tone.   
  
"What's wrong?" I sound like I'm talking to a dangerous animal about to pounce me.   
  
"What do you mean what's wrong?" He stands. He's angry. He's being sarcastic. "Everything's fine! Half the team's mad at Julie for something she didn't do-"   
  
"Portman..." Not this again.   
  
"No, really, I think that's just fine, Conway. Because out of everyone on the team, of course Julie, the most kind and honest person I know, would be sharing secrets with the other teams." Sarcasm, sarcasm, sarcasm.   
  
"She was hanging around with the Avon Old Farms goalie," Adam stands. Banksie to my rescue. "I saw it myself."   
  
"You don't even know what Avon Old Farms is!" Connie stands too. "You just got here yesterday!"   
  
"I know that I saw Julie with a player from another team-"   
  
"No, you know what Conway told you you know." Portman again. "Last night when the fight broke out, you didn't care either way! It's only after Conway told you what to think that you started being anti-Julie!"   
  
"I did not tell Adam, or anyone else, what to think!" My turn to stand. Standing signifies that something dramatic is happening. "They heard the truth and decided for themselves!"   
  
"And you did nothing to influence them?" Portman is a big guy. I never notice this when we're at peace, but as soon as we start arguing, it becomes really obvious just how big Portman is. And wait, wasn't he on my side of things this morning? I swear I heard him telling Julie to get lost.   
  
All the Ducks are chiming in now with their opinions. The locker room is filled with noise, with the sound of us fighting. Portman seems to be outranking Connie as Julie's biggest advocate. He's literally throwing his weight around, pushing up his sleeves, showing off his muscles to everyone not on his side. If he wants to get violent...   
  
Well that would bring this to a whole new level.   
  
It was awkward playing today with people I knew I didn't want to be playing with. I didn't trust Julie in our goal, I didn't trust all of the plays that I've worked so hard to create. Today's game the entire team was, pardon the pun, skating on thin ice. I'm not surprised this fight broke out, I just don't know where it will end up.   
  
Coach Orion told us to either make up or move out. I'm not sure which solution seems more plausible. What's the point of even playing in this tournament if our big competition already knows all of our main moves?   
  
Who knows how much Julie's given away...   
  
I look over at Julie. She's sitting. Sitting signifies that something dramatic is about to happen.   
  
"What do you say to that, eh, Conway?" Portman grabs onto my collar and pulls me forward, forcefully. He is staring me in the face. I have no idea what the preface to his question was, though. I was, and still am, too busy looking at Julie to care. She looks like she's about to cry.   
  
Portman seems to follow my gaze. He looks over at Julie. The sound of arguing kind of falls away. It might still be going on, but I honestly can't tell.   
  
Julie stands and, with only me and Portman noticing, exits the locker room.   
  
Portman lets go of me and follows after her.   
  
I swallow and close my eyes and let myself fall back down onto the bench. 


End file.
